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Title: Sidonia The Sorceress V2

Author: William Mienhold

Release Date: October, 2004 [EBook #6701]
[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
[This file was first posted on January 17, 2003]

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SIDONIA THE SORCERESS



THE SUPPOSED DESTROYER OF THE WHOLE REIGNING DUCAL HOUSE OF
POMERANIA.

TRANSLATED BY LADY WILDE

MARY SCHWEIDLER

THE AMBER WITCH BY WILLIAM MEINHOLD DOCTOR OF THEOLOGY

IN TWO VOLUMES VOL. II.


1894



CONTENTS

SIDONIA THE SORCERESS.



BOOK III.

Continued.

<i>FROM THE RECEPTION OF SIDONIA INTO THE CONVENT AT MARIENFLIESS
UP TILL HER EXECUTION, AUGUST</i> 19TH, 1620.

CHAPTER IV.

How Dorothea Stettin is talked out of the sub-prioret by Sidonia,
and the priest is prohibited from visiting the convent.

CHAPTER V.

How Sidonia wounds Ambrosia von Guntersberg with an axe, because
she purposed to marry--And prays the convent porter, Matthias
Winterfeld, to death--For these, and other causes, the reverend
chaplain refuses to shrive the sorceress, and denounces her
publicly from the altar.

CHAPTER VI.

Dorothea Stettin falls sick, and how the doctor manages to bleed
her--Item, how Sidonia chases the princely commissioners into the
oak-forest.

CHAPTER VII.

How the assembled Pomeranian princes hold a council over Sidonia,
and at length cite her to appear at the ducal court.

CHAPTER VIII.

Of Sidonia's defence--Item, how she has a quarrel with Joachim
Wedel, and bewitches him to death.

CHAPTER IX.

How a strange woman (who must assuredly have been Sidonia) incites
the lieges of his Grace to great uproar and tumult in Stettin, by
reason of the new tax upon beer.

CHAPTER X.

Of the fearful events that take place at Marienfliess--Item, how
Dorothea Stettin becomes possessed by the devil.

CHAPTER XI.

Of the arrival of Diliana and the death of the convent priest--
Item, how the unfortunate corpse is torn by a wolf.

CHAPTER XII.

How Jobst Bork has himself carried to Marienfliess in his bed to
reclaim his fair young daughter Diliana--Item, how George
Putkammer threatens Sidonia with a drawn sword.

CHAPTER XIII.

How my gracious Lord Bishop Franciscus and the reverend Dr. Joel
go to the Jews' school at Old Stettin, in order to steal the Schem
Hamphorasch, and how the enterprise finishes with a sound.
cudgelling.

CHAPTER XIV.

How the Duke Francis seeks a virgin at Marienfliess to cite the
angel Och for him--Of Sidonia's evil plot thereupon, and the
terrible uproar caused thereby in the convent.

CHAPTER XV.

Of the death of the abbess, Magdalena von Petersdorfin--Item, how
Duke Francis makes Jobst Bork and his daughter, Diliana, come to
Camyn, and what happens there.

CHAPTER XVI.

Jobst Bork takes away his daughter by force from the Duke and Dr.
Joel; also is strengthened in his unbelief by Dr. Cramer--Item,
how my gracious Prince arrives at Marienfliess, and there
vehemently menaces Sidonia.

CHAPTER XVII.

Of the fearful death of his Highness, Duke Philip II. of
Pomerania, and of his melancholy but sumptuous burial.

CHAPTER XVIII.

How Jobst Bork and his little daughter are forced at last into the
"Opus Magicum"--Item, how his Highness, Duke Francis, appoints
Christian Ludecke, his attorney-general, to be witch-commissioner
of Pomerania.

CHAPTER XIX.

How Christian Ludecke begins the witch-burnings in Marienfliess,
and lets the poor dairy-mother die horribly on the rack.

CHAPTER XX.

What Sidonia said to these doings--Item, what our Lord God said;
and lastly, of the magical experiment performed upon George
Putkammer and Diliana, in Old Stettin.

CHAPTER XXI.

Of the awful and majestic appearance of the sun-angel, Och.

CHAPTER XXII.

How old Wolde is seized, confronted with Sidonia, and finally
burned before her window.

CHAPTER XXIII.

How Diliana Bork and George Putkammer are at length betrothed--
Item, how Sidonia is degraded from her conventual dignities and
carried to the witches' tower of Saatzig in chains.

CHAPTER XXIV.

Of the execution of Sidonia and the wedding of Diliana.

CONCLUSION.

Mournful destiny of the last princely Pomeranian remains--My visit
to the ducal Pomeranian vault in Wolgast, on the 6th May 1840.


THE AMBER WITCH.

PREFACE

INTRODUCTION

CHAPTER VII.

How the Imperialists robbed me of all that was left, and likewise
broke into the church and stole the <i>Vasa Sacra;</i> also what
more befell us.

CHAPTER VIII.

How our need waxed sorer and sorer, and how I sent old Ilse with
another letter to Pudgla, and how heavy a misfortune this brought
upon me.

CHAPTER IX.

How the old maid-servant humbled me by her faith, and the Lord yet
blessed me, His unworthy servant.

CHAPTER X.

How we journeyed to Wolgast, and made good barter there.

CHAPTER XI.

How I fed all the congregation--Item, how I journeyed to the
horse-fair at Guetzkow, and what befell me there.

CHAPTER XII.

What further joy and sorrow befell us-Item, how Wittich Appelmann
rode to Damerow to the wolf-hunt, and what he proposed to my
daughter.

CHAPTER XIII.

What more happened during the winter--Item, how in the spring
witchcraft began in the village.

CHAPTER XIV.

How old Seden disappeared all on a sudden--Item, how the great
Gustavus Adolphus came to Pomerania, and took the fort at
Peenemuende.

CHAPTER XV.

Of the arrival of the high and mighty King Gustavus Adolphus, and
what befell thereat.

CHAPTER XVI.

How little Mary Paasch was sorely plagued of the devil, and the
whole parish fell off from me.

CHAPTER XVII.

How my poor child was taken up for a witch, and carried to Pudgla.

CHAPTER XVIII.

Of the first trial, and what came thereof.

CHAPTER XIX.

How Satan, by the permission of the most righteous God, sought
altogether to ruin us, and how we lost all hope.

CHAPTER XX.

Of the malice of the Governor and of old Lizzie--Item, of the
examination of witnesses.

CHAPTER XXI.

<i>De confrontations testium</i>.

CHAPTER XXII.

How the <i>Syndicus Dom.</i> Michelson arrived, and prepared his
defence of my poor child.

CHAPTER XXIII.

How my poor child was sentenced to be put to the question.

CHAPTER XXIV.

How in my presence the devil fetched old Lizzie Kolken.

CHAPTER XXV.

How Satan sifted me like wheat, whereas my daughter withstood him
right bravely.

CHAPTER XXVI.

How I received the Holy Sacrament with my daughter and the old
maid-servant, and how she was then led for the last time before
the court, with the drawn sword and the outcry, to receive
sentence.

CHAPTER XXVII.

Of that which befell us by the way--Item, of the fearful death of
the sheriff at the mill.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

How my daughter was at length saved by the help of the all-merciful,
yea, of the all-merciful God.

CHAPTER XXIX.

Of our next great sorrow, and final joy.



BOOK III. Continued.

FROM THE RECEPTION OF SIDONIA INTO THE CONVENT AT MARIENFLIESS UP
TILL HER EXECUTION, AUGUST 19TH, 1620.

VOL. II.




CHAPTER IV.

<i>How Dorothea Stettin is talked out of the sub-prioret by
Sidonia, and the priest is prohibited from visiting the
convent.</i>


If Sidonia could not be the pastor's wife, she was determined at
least to be sub-prioress, and commenced her preparations for this
object by knitting a little pair of red hose for her cat. Then she
sent for Dorothea Stettin, saying that she was weak and ill, and
no one took pity on her.

When the good Dorothea came as she was asked, there lay my serpent
on the bed in her nun's robes, groaning and moaning as if her last
hour had come; and scarcely had the sub-prioress taken a seat near
her, when my cat crept forth from under the bed, in his little red
hose, mewing and rubbing himself up against the robe of the
sub-prioress, as if praying her to remove this unwonted constraint
from him, of the little red hose.

After Dorothea had inquired about her sickness, she looked at the
cat, and asked wonderingly, what was the meaning of such a strange
dress?

<i>Illa</i>.--"Ah, dear friend, it was dreadful to my feelings to see the
little animal going about naked, therefore I knit little hose for
him, as you see; indeed, I am often tempted to wonder how the Lord
God could permit the poor animals to appear naked before us."

<i>Haec</i> (extending her arms for joy, so that she almost tumbled back
off the stool).--"Oh, God be praised and thanked, at last I have
found one chaste soul in this wicked world! (sobs, throws up her
eyes, falls upon Sidonia's neck, kisses her, and weeps over her:)
ah yes, one chaste soul at last, like herself!"

<i>Illa.</i>--"True, Dorothea, there is no virtue so rare in this
evil world as chastity. Ah, why has the Lord God placed such
things before our eyes? I never can comprehend it, and never will.
What a sight for a chaste virgin these naked animals! What did the
dear sister think on the matter?"

<i>Haec.</i>--"Ah, she knew not what to think, had asked the priest
about it."

<i>Illa.</i>--"And what did he say?"

<i>Haec.</i>--"He laughed at her."

<i>Illa.</i>--"Just like him, the lewd, hypocritical pharisee."

<i>Haec.</i>--"Eh? she was too hard on the good priest. He was a
pure and upright servant of God."

<i>Illa.</i>--"Ay, as Judas was. Had not sister Dorothea
heard----"

<i>Haec.</i>--"No; for God's sake, what? The dear sister frightened
her already."

<i>Illa.</i>--"First, you confess that the priest laughed when you
talked about chastity?"

<i>Haec.</i>--"Yes, true, ah, indeed true."

<i>Illa.</i>--"Then you remember that he preached a sermon lately
upon adul--upon adul--. No, she never could utter the word--the
horrible word. Upon the seventh commandment, to the great scandal
of the entire convent?"

<i>Haec.</i>--"Ah yes, ah yes, she was there, and had to stop one
ear with her finger, the other with her kerchief, not to hear all
the strange and dreadful things he was saying."

<i>Illa.</i>--"And yet this was the man that ran in and out of the
cloister daily at his pleasure, sent for or not--a young unmarried
man--though the convent rules especially declared an <i>old</i>
man. Ah, if <i>she</i> were sub-prioress, this scandal should
never be permitted."

<i>Haec</i>.--"What could be done? it was a blessed thing to live
in peace. Besides, the priest was such a pious man."

<i>Illa</i>.--"Pious? Heaven defend us from such piety! Why, had
she not heard?--the whole convent talked about it."

<i>Haec</i>.--"No, no; for God's sake, what had happened? tell
her--she had been making sausages all the morning, and had heard
nothing."

<i>Illa</i>.--"Then know, ah God, how it pained her to talk of
it--she had heard a great noise in the kitchen in the morning, as
if all the pots and pans were tumbled about, and when she ran in
to see--there was the priest--oh, her chaste eyes never had seen
such a sight--the <i>pious</i> priest making love to her old maid,
Wolde."

<i>Haec</i>.--"Impossible, impossible!--to her old maid, Wolde?"

<i>Illa</i>.-"Yea, and he was praying her for kisses, and praising
her fat hand, and extolling her white hair. But as to what more
she had seen----"

<i>Haec</i>.--"For God's sake, sister, what more?"

<i>Illa</i> (sighing, and covering her face with both hands).--"No,
no, that she could never bring her chaste lips to utter. Oh, that
such wickedness should be in the world (weeping bitterly). But she
would never enter the chapel again, and that priest there; nor
receive the rites from him. But this was not all; the dear sister
must hear how he revenged himself upon her, because she
interrupted his toying with the old hag. It was truth, all truth!
She (Sidonia) grew so ill with fright and horror that she was
unable to disrobe, and threw herself on the bed just as she was,
but growing weaker and weaker hour by hour, sent for the priest at
last, to pray with her, and afterwards to offer up general
supplication for her restoration, in the chapel with all the
sisterhood; but only think, the shameless hypocrite refused to
pray with her, because he spied an end of her black robe out of
the bed, declaring she was not ill at all, that she was a base
liar, all because she had lain down in her convent dress, and
finally went his way cursing and swearing, without even saying one
prayer, or uttering one word of comfort, as was his duty. And now,
alas! she must die without priest or sacrament! To what a Sodom
and Gomorrah she had come! But if an old hag like her maid was not
safe from the shameless parson, how could she or any of them be
safe? What was to be done? unless the dear sister, as
sub-prioress, took the matter in her own hands, and brought him to
task about it?"

At this proposal the other trembled like an aspen leaf, and seemed
more dead than alive. She wept, wrung her hands--for God's sake
what could she do? how could she talk on such a matter? Let the
abbess see to it, if she chose.

<i>Illa</i>.--"Stuff, the old pussy--the less said of <i>her</i>
the better. Why, she was worse than the old maid, Wolde, herself."

<i>Haec</i>.--"The abbess? why, the whole convent, and the whole
world too, talked of her piety and virtue."

<i>Illa</i>.--"Very virtuous, truly, to have the priest locked up
with her; and when some of the sisters wished to remain,
suspecting that all was not right, the priest pushed them out at
the door with his own hands, and bolted it after them, as many
could testify to her had been done this very day. Oh, what a Sodom
and Gomorrah she had been betrayed into! (weeping, sobbing, and
falling upon Dorothea's neck.) I pray you, sister, for the sake of
our heavenly bridegroom, bring this evil to an end, otherwise fire
and brimstone will assuredly and justly be rained down upon our
poor cloister."

Still the other maintained, "That the dear sister must err as
regarded the abbess. It might be her chaste zeal that blinded her.
True enough, probably, what she said of the priest; but the worthy
abbess--no, never could she believe that."

<i>Illa</i>.--"Let her have proof then. It was not her custom to
weaken innocence; call her maid, Wolde."

Then as Wolde entered, Sidonia made a sign, and bid her tell the
sub-prioress all that the shameless priest had done.

<i>Ancilla</i>.--"He had asked her for little kisses, praised her
hands and hair, and her beautiful limp, and had sat up close to
her on the bench, then run after her into the kitchen, gave her
money (shows the money), asked again for kisses, then----"

Sidonia screams--

"Hold your tongue; no more, no more; enough, enough!"

At this story, Dorothea Stettin nearly went into convulsions--she
wrung her hands, crying--.

"How is it possible? O heaven, how is it possible?"

<i>Illa</i>.--"There is something more quite possible also; the
hag shall tell you what she saw at the room door of the abbess."

<i>Ancilla</i>.-"When the scandalous priest left her, he went
straight to the abbess, and there was taken with cramps, as she
heard, upon which all the convent ran thither, and she with the
rest. And he was lying stretched out on a bench, like one dead, no
doubt from shame; but the shame soon went off, and then he got up,
and bade them all leave the room. However, good Anna Apenborg did
not choose to go, for she suspected evil. Whereupon he seized her
by the hand, and put her out along with the others. She saw all
this herself, for she was standing in the passage, waiting to
speak to sister Anna. When, behold, she was pushed out, to her
great surprise, in this way by the priest, and they heard the door
bolted inside immediately after."

At this Dorothea Stettin fell upon Sidonia's bed, weeping,
sobbing, and ready to die with grief; but Sidonia bade her not
take on so; for perhaps, after all, the old hag had not told the
truth, at least concerning the dear, worthy abbess; but two
witnesses would be sufficient testimony. Whereupon she bid Wolde
watch for Anna Apenborg from the window, and beckon to her to come
in if she saw her going by.

And scarcely had Wolde stepped to the window, when she laughed and
said--

"Truly, there stands Anna chatting with Agnes Kleist's maid at the
well. Shall I run and call her?"

"Yes," said Sidonia.

In a little while Wolde returned with sister Anna. The girl looked
wildly round at first, stared at the broom-sticks which lay
crosswise under the table, and then asked, with a trembling voice,
what the good sister wanted with her, while she took a seat on a
trunk near the bed.

"My old maid," said Sidonia, "tells me that the reverend chaplain
took you by the hand, and put you out of the abbess's room, after
which he bolted the door. Is this true or not? Speak the whole
truth."

So Anna related the whole story as Wolde had done; but, while
talking, the curious damsel lifted up a corner of the quilt to
peep under the bed, upon which my cat in his little red hose crept
forth again, mewing and rubbing himself against Anna, at which she
gave a shriek of horror and sprang out of the room, down the steps
and into the courtyard, without ever once venturing to look behind
her. And many think that this cat was Sidonia's evil spirit Chim.
But Anna Apenborg saw afterwards a pair of terrible fiery eyes
glaring at her from Sidonia's window; so others said, that must
have been Chim. But we shall hear more of this same cat presently.

<i>Summa</i>.--Sidonia knew well enough what made the girl scream,
but she turned to Dorothea, and said--

"Ah, see how this wickedness has shocked the poor young nun!
Therefore, dear sister, you must, as sub-prioress, make an end of
the scandal, and prohibit this false priest from visiting the
convent; for, indeed, they who permitted him such freedom amongst
the nuns were more to blame for his sins than he himself."

Poor Dorothea groaned forth in answer--

"Alas, alas! why did I ever accept the sub-prioret? For the couple
of sacks of flour and the bit of corn which she got more than the
others, it was not worth while to be plagued to death. It was all
true about the priest. He must be dismissed. But then she loved
peace. How could she right such matters? Oh, that some one would
relieve her of this sub-prioret!"

<i>Illa</i>.--"That can be easily done if you will. Suppose you
ask Anna Apenborg to take it?"

<i>Haec</i>.--"No, no; Anna had not sense enough for that; but if
the dear sister herself would take it, how happy she would feel."

<i>Illa</i>.--"She was too sick, probably going to die; who could
tell?"

<i>Haec</i>.--"No, no; she would pray for her. The dear sister
could not be spared yet. Let her say yes (falling on her neck and
weeping), only let her say yes."

<i>Illa</i>.--"Well, out of love to her she would say yes; and if
the Lord raised her up from this sick bed, order and decorum
should reign again in the convent."

<i>Haec</i> (again embracing her with gratitude).--"No doubt they
would. She knew well that no such pure-minded nun was in the
convent as her dear sister Sidonia."

<i>Illa</i>.--"But, good Dorothea, in order to get rid of the
priest as soon as possible, we had better send the porter
immediately to summon the abbess and the entire sisterhood here,
for you to tender your resignation in their presence."

<i>Haec</i>.--"But sister Sidonia must promise not to complain of
the priest or the abbess to the Prince."

<i>Illa</i>.--"No, no; I can settle the matter quietly, without
laying a complaint before the Prince."

<i>Haec</i>.--"All right, then. Everything, if possible, in peace."

Hereupon Sidonia despatched the porter to the abbess with a
request that she and the whole convent would assemble in
half-an-hour at the refectory, as she had somewhat to communicate.
Meanwhile she instructed Dorothea in what she was to say, so as
not to disgrace the poor abbess before the whole convent.

At the end of the half-hour, the abbess and the entire sisterhood
appeared, but all with anger and mistrust depicted on their
countenances. Sidonia then spake--

"Since ye and your priest refused to pray for me, I have prayed
for myself, and the Lord hath heard me in my weakness, and made me
strong enough to listen to the request of this good sister,
Dorothea, and promise to fulfil it. Speak, sister Dorothea, what
was your prayer?"

So Dorothea advanced, weeping and wringing her hands--

"Ah, God! she could no longer be sub-prioress. She loved peace too
much. But there were bad doings in the convent--she would say no
more--only they must end. Therefore she had earnestly prayed her
dear sister Sidonia to relieve her from the duties of office, and
become sub-prioress in her stead."

Here she loosed the veil, which differed from the others, by
having a key embroidered in gold thereon--the abbess had two keys
on her veil--and bound it on Sidonia, who had by this time risen
from bed, taking Sidonia's veil for herself. Then leading the
fatal sorceress forward, she said--

"Good mother and dear sisters--behold your sub-prioress!"

Thereupon the abbess and the whole convent remained quite mute, so
great was their horror.

Then Sidonia asked--

"Have they aught to say against it? If so, let them speak."

But they all remained silent and trembling, till at last the
abbess murmured--

"Is this done with your free-will, Dorothea?"

"Ah, yes, yes, truly," she answered. "I told you before with what
earnest prayers I besought the dear sister to release me. God be
thanked she has consented at last. Who can keep order and decorum
so well throughout the convent?"

Then the abbess spoke again--

"Sister Sidonia, I have no opposition to make, as you know full
well. So, if the Prince, and the sheriff, our worthy
superintendent, consent, you shall be sub-prioress. Yet first you
must render an account of your strange doings this past night, for
things were seen and heard in your chamber which could not have
been accomplished without the help of the great enemy himself."

Hereat Sidonia laughed as if she would die. She would tell them
the whole trick. They all knew what a trouble to the convent was
this Anna Apenborg from her curiosity--not once or twice, but ten
times a day, running in and out with her chat and gossip. She had
tried all means to prevent her, but in vain. Even in the middle of
her prayers, the said Anna would come in to tell her what one
sister was cooking, and another getting, or some follies even
quite unfit for chaste ears. And that last night being very sick,
she sent for the priest, upon which she heard Anna calling out
from the window to the porter, "Will he come? will he come?"
<i>Item</i>, she had then crept down to listen at the door. So
after the priest went, notwithstanding all her weakness, she
(Sidonia) determined to give her a good fright, and thus prevent
her from spying and listening any more. Then she called Wolde, and
bid her dance, while she muttered some words out of the
cookery-book. But here Anna called out, "It is not true; there
were <i>three</i> danced. Where is the carl with the deep bass
voice? Who could this be at that midnight hour, but the devil
bodily himself?"

At this, Sidonia laughed louder than before. It was her cat--her
own cat, who was springing about the room, because for divers
reasons she had put little red hose on him. On this she stoops
under the bed, seizes my cat by the leg, who howls (that was the
deep bass voice), and flings him into the middle of the room,
where all the nuns, when they beheld his strange jumps and springs
in the little hose, burst out into loud laughter, in which the
abbess herself could not refrain from joining. So as there was no
evidence against Sidonia, and Anna Apenborg was truly held of all
as a most troublesome chatterbox and spy, the inquiry ended. And
with somewhat more friendliness, putting the best face on a bad
matter, they accepted Sidonia for their sub-prioress.




CHAPTER V.

<i>How Sidonia wounds Ambrosia von Guntersberg with an axe,
because she purposed to marry--And prays the convent porter,
Matthias Winterfeld, to death--For these, and other causes, the
reverend chaplain refuses to shrive the sorceress, and denounces
her publicly from the altar</i>.


Sidonia's first act, as may easily be imagined, was to dismiss the
priest; and for this purpose she wrote him a letter, saying that
he must never more presume to set foot within the cloister, for if
old ice-grey mothers were not safe from him, how could she and the
other maidens hope to escape? If he disobeyed her orders, she
would summon him before the princely consistorium, where strange
things might be told of him.

So the reverend David consented right willingly, and never saw the
nuns except on Sundays in the chapel, but Sidonia herself never
appeared in the nuns' choir. She gave Dorothea many excellent and
convincing reasons for her absence. (But in my opinion, it was
caused by hate and abhorrence of the sacrament and the holy Word
of God; for such are a torment and a torture to the children of
the devil, even as the works of the devil are an abomination to
the children of God.)

When, however, the report came, that the reverend David was indeed
betrothed to Barbara Bamberg, Sidonia presented herself once in
the choir, kneeled down, and was heard to murmur, "Wed if thou
wilt, that I cannot hinder; but a child thou shalt never hold at
the font!" And truly was the evil curse fulfilled.

Meanwhile the fear and the dread of her increased daily in the
convent, for besides old Wolde, two other horrible hags were
observed frequently going in and out of her apartments--true
children of Satan, as one might see by their red, glowing eyes.
With these she practised many horrible sorceries, sometimes
quarrelled with them, however, and beat them out with the
broom-stick; but they always came back again, and were as well
received as ever.

Then she had strifes and disputes with every one who approached
her, and was notorious through all the courts of justice for her
wrangling and fighting, in particular with her brother's son, Otto
of Stramehl, for she sued him for an <i>alimentum</i> pension, and
also demanded that the rents of her two farm-houses in Zachow
should be paid her, according to the sum to which they must have
accumulated during the last fifty years. But he answered, she
should have no money; why did she not live at her farm-houses? He
knew nothing of the rents, the whole matter was past and
forgotten, and she had no claim now on him, and so every month she
wrangled in the courts about this business. <i>Item</i>, she
fought with Preslar of Buslar, because, being a feudal vassal of
the Borks', she required him to kiss her hand, which he refused;
then her dog having strayed into his house, she accused him of
having stolen it. <i>Item</i>, she fought with the maid who acted
as cook in the convent kitchen, and said she never got a morsel
fit to eat. And the said maid (I forget her name now) having
salted the fish too much one day, she ran after her with a
broom-stick--once, indeed, beat her so severely, that she was lame
her life long after.

But worse than the fish-salting was the white kerchief which the
maid wore. For people, she said, might take her at a distance to
be one of the honourable convent ladies, therefore she must wear a
coloured one. This the maid would not do, so she was soon brought
to an untimely end also, along with all others who displeased her.

These things, and many more, came out upon her trial, but for
divers reasons I must pass them over. All her notes, messages, and
letters, she entrusted to the porter, Matthias Winterfeld, who was
often sent, may be five times a week, by her to Stargard. But he
dared not remonstrate, or she would have struck him with the
broom-stick.

However, all this is nothing in comparison with the way she
treated the unfortunate nuns. The younger and prettier they were,
so much the more she boxed, beat, and martyred them, even striking
them with the broom-stick. And if they ever smiled or seemed happy
talking to one another, she abused and reviled them, calling them
idle wantons, who thought of nothing but matrimony. None were
permitted outside the convent gates, not even to visit their
parents: they should not be flying back with their crumbs of
gossip about brides and weddings, forsooth, and such-like improper
thoughts. Neither should they go to the annual fair. She would go
herself and buy everything for them she thought needful, only let
them give her the gold.

And out of deadly fear the poor maidens bore this tyranny long
while silently; even the abbess feared to complain, so that
Sidonia soon usurped the entire government of the convent.

But the powder-mill broke out at last into vivid flames, as I
shall narrate here. It was on this wise:--Amongst the novices was
one beautiful young maiden, Ambrosia von Guntersberg by name. She
was fifth daughter of old Ambrosius of Falkenwald, a little town
near Jacobshagen. One day a young nobleman called Ewald von
Mellenthin beheld her in her cloister habit. Think you he forgot
her? No, he can never forget the maiden! One, two weeks pass over,
but she has sunk deeper and deeper into his heart; at last he rose
up and went to Falkenwald to her father, Ambrosius, asking her
hand in honourable marriage.

Now, the old man was well pleased, for he was poor, and had five
daughters; so he bid the young noble write a letter to his
daughter Ambrosia, which he would inclose in one from himself to
her. But no answer arrived from the maiden (we may guess why, for
Sidonia opened and read all the letters that came to the convent,
before they were handed to their owners. Those that displeased her
she burned; no doubt, therefore, the love-letter was the first in
the flames). But the young noble grew impatient for an answer, and
resolved to ride to Marienfliess. So he ties his good horse to a
cross in the churchyard, walks straight up to the convent, and
rings the bell. Immediately the old porter, Matthias, opened to
him, with his hands covered with blood (for he was killing a fat
ox for the nuns, close by); whereupon the noble lord prayed to
speak a few words to the young novice Ambrosia von Guntersberg, at
the grating; and in a little time the beautiful maiden appeared,
tripping along the convent court (but Sidonia is before her).
Ambrosia advanced modestly to the grating, and asked the handsome
knight, "What was his pleasure?" who answered, "Since I beheld you
in Guntersberg, dearest lady, my heart has been wholly yours; and
when I saw how diligently and cheerfully you ruled your father's
house during his sickness, I resolved to take you for my wife, if
such were possible; for I need a good and prudent spouse at my
castle of Lienke, and methinks no better or more beautiful could
be found than yourself. Therefore I obtained your father's
permission to open the matter to you in writing, and he inclosed
my letter in one of his own; but you have neither answered one nor
the other. Whereupon, in my impatience, I saddled my good horse,
and rode over here to have an answer at once from your own
beautiful lips."

When Sidonia heard this, she grew black in the face with
rage--"What! in her presence, before her very face, to dare to
hold such language to a young maiden--a mere child--who knew
nothing at all of what marriage meant. He must pack off this
instant, or the devil himself should turn him out of the
cloister."

Meanwhile the young maiden took heart (for the handsome knight
pleased her), and said, "Gracious Lady Prioress (Sidonia made them
all call her Gracious Lady, as if she were a born princess), I am
no more a child, as you say, and I know very well what marriage
means."

This boldness made the other so wroth that she screamed--"Wait! I
will teach you what marriage is;" and she sprang on her to box
her. But Ambrosia rushed through the side-door out into the court,
Sidonia following; however, not being able to reach her, she
seized up the axe with which the porter had been killing the ox,
and flung it after her, wounding the poor maiden so in the foot
that the red blood poured down over her white stockings, while the
young lover, who could not break the grating, screamed and stamped
for rage and despair. By the good mercy of God the wound was only
slight, still the fair novice fell to the ground; but seeing
Sidonia rushing at her again with the large butcher's knife which
the porter had been using, she sprang up and ran to the grating,
crying out to the noble, "Save me! save me!"

And at her screams all the nuns threw up their windows, right and
left, over the courtyard; but finding the young knight could not
help her, she ran to the old porter, still screaming, "Save me!
save me! she is going to murder me!"

Now the fellow was glad enough to be revenged on Sidonia, for she
had sent him running to Stargard for her late the night before,
and the moment the ox was to be quartered, he was to be off there
again at her command; so he rushed at the vile witch, and seizing
her up like a bundle of old rags, pitched her against the wall
with all his force, adding a right hearty curse; and there she lay
quaking like an old cat, while the handsome young noble laughed
loud from the grating.

But she was up again soon, shook her dry, withered fist at the
porter, and cried, "Ha! thou insolent churl, I will pray thee to
death for this!"

Whereupon she went off to her room, and locked herself up there,
while the fair Ambrosia ran to the grating, and stretching out her
little hands through the bars, exclaimed, "I am yours, dear
knight; oh, take me away from this horrible hell!"

This rejoiced my young noble heartily, and he kissed the little
hands and lamented over her foot--"And was it much hurt? She must
lift it up, and show him if the wound was deep."

So she raised up the dainty foot a little bit, and then saw that
her whole shoe was full of blood; but the old porter, who came by
just then, comforted the handsome youth, and told him he would
stop the blood directly, for the wound was but a trifle. Whereupon
he laid a couple of straws over it, murmured some words, and
behold, in a moment, the blood is staunched! Then the fair novice
thanked him courteously, and prayed him to unlock the wicket, for
she would go and stay a couple of hours with the miller's wife,
while this young noble, to whom she had plighted love and troth,
returned to her father's for a carriage to bring her home. After
what had passed now, never more would she enter the cloister.

But what happened? Scarcely had the good old porter unfastened the
grating, and the young knight taken the fair girl in his arms,
kissing her and pressing her to his heart (well Sidonia did not
see him), when Matthias screamed out, "My God, what ails me?" and
fell flat on the ground. At this the young knight left his bride,
and flew to raise him up. "What could ail him?" But the poor old
man can hardly speak, his eyes are turned in his head, and he
gasped, "It was as if a man were sitting inside his breast, and
crushing him to death. Oh, he could not breathe--his ribs were
breaking!"

The alarmed young noble then helped the poor creature to reach his
room, which lay close by the wicket; and having laid him on the
bed in care of his wife, and recommended him to the mercy of God,
he returned to his own fair bride, to carry her off from this
murder-hole, and place her in safety with the miller's wife. I may
as well mention here that he and the beautiful Ambrosia were
wedded in due time, and lived long in peace and happiness, blessed
with many lovely children; for all the evil which Sidonia tried to
bring upon them, as we shall hear, came to nought, through the
mercy of the great God.

But to return to the porter-on the third day he died; and during
that time, day and night, Sidonia prayed, and was never seen but
once. This was at the dividing of the salmon, when she threw up
her window, and shaking her withered clenched hand at them, and
her long white locks, threatened the nuns on their peril to touch
the tail-piece-the tail-piece was hers.

A general horror pervaded the convent now, in truth, when the
death of the porter was known. Anna Apenborg shut herself up,
trembling, in her cell, and even good Dorothea began somewhat to
doubt the virtues of the vile sorceress; for the corpse had a
strange and unnatural appearance, so that it was horrible to look
upon, by which signs it was easy to perceive that he had been
prayed to death, as the fearful night-hag had threatened.

I must notify these symptoms, for the corpses of many of Sidonia's
victims presented the same appearances; as the corpse of the
reverend David--<i>item</i>, Joachim Wedeln of
Cremzow--<i>item/<i>, Doctor Schwalenberg of Stargard, and Duke
Philip II., and lastly, the abbess, Magdalena von Petersdorf.
Whether her brother's son, Otto of Stramehl, whom she was
suspected also of having prayed to death, presented the like, I
cannot say with certainty. At this same time also his princely
Grace Duke Bogislaff XIII. expired, many say bewitched to death;
but of this I have no proof, as the body had quite a natural
aspect after death. Still he had just arranged to journey to
Marienfliess himself, and turn out Sidonia, in consequence of the
accusations of Sheriff Sparling and the convent chaplain, so that
his sudden death looks suspicious; however, as the <i>medicus</i>,
Dr. Nicolaus Schulz, pronounced, "Quod ex ramis venae portae Epatis
et lienis exporrectis, iste adustus sanguis eo prosiliiset" (for
he died by throwing up a black matter like his brothers); and
further, as the manikin on the three-legged hare did not appear
this time at the castle, I shall not lay the murder on Sidonia, to
increase her terrible burden at the last day, though I have my own
thoughts upon the matter.

<i>Summa.</i>-My gracious Prince died <i>suddenly</i>. Alas, woe!
exactly like all his brothers; he was just sixty-one years old,
seven months, and fifteen days, and a more God-fearing prince
never sat on a throne. But my grief over the fate of this great
Pomeranian house has carried me away from the corpse of the old
porter. The appearances were these:--

1. The face brown, green, and yellow, particularly about the
<i>musculi frontales et temporales.</i>

2. The <i>musculi pectorales</i> so swelled, and the <i>cartilago
ensiformis</i> so singularly raised, that the chest of the corpse
touched the mouth.

3. From the <i>patella</i> of the left leg to the <i>malleolus
externus</i> of the foot, all brown, green, and yellow, blended
together.

And on examination of the said corpse, Dr. Kukuck of Stargard
affirmed and was ready to swear, that no one tittle of the
signature of Satan was wanting thereupon.

<i>Summa</i>.--The poor carl was buried with great mourning on the
following Friday; and the reverend David preached a sermon
thereupon, in which he plainly spoke of his strange and unnatural
death, so that every one knew well whom he suspected. My hag heard
of this instantly, and therefore determined to attend the
sacrament on the following Sunday; for this end she despatched
Wolde to the priest, bidding her tell him she had a great desire
to attend the holy rite, and would go to confession that day after
noon. At this horrid blasphemy a cold shudder fell upon the priest
(and I trust every Christian man will feel the like as he reads
this), for he now saw through her motive clearly, how she wanted
to blind the eyes of the people as to the death of the porter, by
this mockery of the holiest rites of religion. Besides, amongst
the horrible abominations practised by witches, it is well known
that having received the sacred bread, they privately take the
same again from their mouth and feed their familiar therewith. And
one day when the convent was quite still, Anna Apenborg, having
crept down to peep through the key-hole of the refectory door, saw
enough to confirm this general belief.

No wonder then if the good priest stood long silent from horror;
then he spake--"Tell the prioress it is well;" but when Wolde was
gone, he threw himself upon his knees in his closet before God,
and wrestled long in prayer, with tears and wringing of hands,
that He would open to him what was his path of duty.

About noon he became more composed, through the great mercy of the
Lord; and bid his wife, Barbara, come to him, with whom he had
lived now a year and a half in perfect joy, though without
children. To her he disclosed the proposition of the horrible
sorceress, and afterwards spake thus:--

"And because, dear Barbara, after earnest prayer to God, I have
come to the resolution neither to shrive nor to give the Lord's
body to this daughter accursed of hell, do not be surprised if a
like death awaits me as happened to the porter, Matthias. When I
die, therefore, dear wife, take thee another spouse and bear
children. 'For the woman,' says the Scripture, 'shall be blessed
through childbearing, so as she continues in faith, and love, and
in holiness with sobriety' (I Tim. ii.). Thus thou wilt soon
forget me."

But the poor wife wept, and besought him to turn from his resolve,
and not incur the vengeance of Sidonia. So he answered, "Weep not,
or our parting will be more bitter; this poor flesh and blood is
weak enough, still never will I blaspheme the holy rite of our
Church, and 'cast pearls before swine' (Matt. vii.). And wherefore
weep? At the last day they would meet again, to smile for ever in
an eternity of joy. But could he hope for this if he were an
unfaithful steward of the mysteries of God? No; but it was
written, 'Death is swallowed up in victory. Death, where is thy
sting? Hell, where is thy victory? God be thanked who giveth us
the victory through Christ our Lord' (I Cor. xv.). In God
therefore he trusted, and in His strength would go now to the
confessional."

She must let him go; the sexton would soon ring the bell, and he
wished to pray some time alone in the church. Her tears had again
disturbed his spirit, and made him weak. But he would use the holy
keys of his office, which his Saviour had entrusted to him, to His
glory alone, even if this accursed sorceress were to bring him to
the grave for it. If the Lord will, He could protect him, but he
would still do his duty. Will she not let him go now, that he may
pray?

And when she unwound her arms, he took her again in his, kissed
her, sobbed, and wept; then tearing himself away, went out into
the church by the garden entrance.

Then the poor wife flung herself on a seat, weeping and praying,
but in a little while in came Dorothea Stettin, saying, "That she
was going to confession, and had no small silver for the
offertory. Could she give her change of a dollar?"

Then she asked about the other's grief; and having heard the
cause, promised to go to the priest herself, and beseech him not
to break the staff "Woe" over Sidonia. She went therefore
instantly to the church, and found him on his knees praying behind
the altar. Whereupon she entreated him, after her fashion, not to
break the blessed peace--peace above all things.

Meanwhile the sexton rung the bell, and Sidonia entered, sweeping
the nave of the church to the altar, followed by seven or eight
nuns. But when she beheld Dorothea come out at one side, and the
priest at the other, and that not another soul had been in the
church, she laughed aloud mockingly, and clapped her hands--"Ha!
the pious priest, would he tell them now what he and Dorothea were
doing behind the altar? The sisters were all witnesses how this
shameless parson conducted himself." Though she spoke this quite
loud for every one to hear, yet not one of the nuns made answer,
but stood trembling like doves who see the falcon ready to pounce
upon them. Yea, even as Dorothea came down the altar steps to take
her place in the choir, my hag laughed loud again like Satan, and
cried, "Ah! the chaste virgin! who meetest the priest behind the
altar! Thou shameless wanton, the prioress shall teach thee fitter
behaviour soon!"

Poor Dorothea turned quite pale with fright, and began--"Ah! dear
sister, only listen!"

But the dragon snapped at her, with--"Dear sister, forsooth!
What!--was she to bear this insolence? Let her know that the
gracious Lady Prioress was not to be talked to as 'dear sister '!"

Here the organ struck up the confession hymn; and the whole
congregation being assembled in the church, Sidonia and the seven
nuns ascended the steps of the altar, bowed to the priest, and
then took their seats, whereupon the organ ceased playing.

After a brief silence, the poor minister sighed heavily, and then
spake--"Sidonia, after all that has been stated concerning you,
particularly with regard to the death of the convent porter within
these last few days, I cannot, as a faithful servant of God, give
you either absolution or the holy rite of the Lord's Supper, until
you clear yourself from such imputations before a princely
consistorium."

At this my hag laughed loud from the altar, crying, "Eh?--that was
a strange story. What had she done to the convent porter?"

<i>Ille</i>.--"Prayed him to death, as every one believed, and his
appearance proved."

<i>Haec</i> (still laughing).--"He must have lost his senses. Let
him go home and bind asses' milk upon his temples; he would soon
be better."

<i>Ille</i>.--"She should remember where and what she spoke. Had
she not herself said, she would pray the porter to death?"

<i>Haec</i> (laughing yet louder).--"Oh! in truth, his little bit
of mother-wit was quite gone. When and where had it been ever
heard that one person could pray another to death? Then they might
pray them to life again. Shall she try it with the porter?"

<i>Ille</i>.--"Why then had she threatened it?"

<i>Haec</i> (still laughing).--"Ah! poor man! she saw now he was
quite foolish. Why had she threatened? Why, in anger, of course,
because the vile churl had flung her against the wall. Had he
never heard the poor people say to each other, 'May the devil take
you;' but if one happened to die soon after, did people really
think the devil had taken him? Why, he was as superstitious as an
old spinning-wife."

<i>Ille</i>.--"She had heard his resolve. This was no place to
argue with her; therefore she might go her ways, for he would
verily not give her absolution."

So Sidonia rose up raging from the confessional, clenched her
hand, and screamed out in the still church, so that all the people
shuddered with horror--"Ye are all my witnesses that this
worthless priest has denied me absolution, because, forsooth, he
says I killed the convent porter. Ha! ha! ha! Where is it said in
your Scriptures that one man can pray another to death? But the
licentiousness of the vile priest has turned his brain, and he
wallows in all most senseless superstitions. Did he not run after
my old hag of a servant, as I myself saw; and this was not enough,
but he must take Dorothea Stettin (the hypocritical wanton) behind
the altar alone; and because I and these seven maidens discovered
his iniquity, he refuses me the rites, and must have me before a
princely consistorium to revenge himself. But wait, priest, I will
drag the sheep's clothing from thee. Wait, thou shalt yet repent
this bitterly!"

After the horrible sorceress had so blasphemed, she departed as
quickly as possible from the church, muttering to herself. The
congregation remained silent from fear and terror; and the poor
priest, who seemed more dead than alive, prayed the sexton to
fetch him a cup of water, which he drank; and then being in some
degree recovered, he stepped forth, and addressed the congregation
thus:--

"Dear brethren and friends, after what ye have just heard, ye will
not wonder if I am unable to receive confessions this day, or to
administer the holy communion. Ye all know Dorothea Stettin,
neither is my character unknown to you; therefore remember the
words of St. Peter, 'The devil goeth about as a roaring lion,
seeking whom he may devour.' But we will resist him, steadfast in
the faith. Meet me, then, tomorrow here at the altar, and ye shall
hear my justification. After which, I will shrive those who desire
to be partakers of the holy sacrament."

And on the following morning, the holy minister of God preached
from Matthew v. 11--"Blessed are ye when men shall revile you and
persecute you, and say all manner of evil falsely against you, for
My sake; be glad and comforted, for ye shall be well recompensed
in heaven." And in this powerful sermon he drew a picture of
Sidonia from her youth up; so that many trembled for him when they
remembered her power, though they glorified God for the mighty
zeal and courage that burned in his words. But when Sidonia heard
of this sermon, she became almost frantic from rage.




CHAPTER VI.

<i>Dorothea Stettin falls sick, and how the doctor manages to
bleed her--Item, how Sidonia chases the princely commissioners
into the oak-forest.</i>


Such a public humiliation the good virgin Dorothea Stettin found
it impossible to bear. She fell sick, and repented with bitter
tears of the trust and confidence she had reposed in Sidonia;
finally, the abbess sent off a message to Stargard for the
<i>medicus</i>, Dr. Schwalenberg.

This doctor was an excellent little man, rather past middle age
though still unmarried, upright and honest, but rough as
bean-straw. When he stood by Dorothea's bed and had heard all
particulars of her illness, he bid her put out her hand, that he
might feel her pulse. "No, no;" she answered, "that could she
never do; never in her life had a male creature felt her pulse."
At this my doctor laughed right merrily, and all the nuns who
stood round, and Sidonia's old maid, Wolde, laughed likewise; but
at last he persuaded Dorothea to stretch out her hand.

"I must bleed her," said the doctor. "This is <i>febris
putrida</i>; therefore was her thirst so great: she must strip her
arm till he bleed her." But no one can persuade her to this--strip
her arm! no, never could she do it; she would die first: if the
doctor could do nothing else, he may go his ways.

Now the doctor grew angry. Such a cursed fool of a woman he had
never come across in his life; if she did not strip her arm
instantly, he would do it by force. But Dorothea is inflexible;
say what he would, she would strip her arm for no man!

Even the abbess and the sisterhood tried to persuade her.

"Would she not do it for her health's sake; or, at least, for the
sake of peace?"

They were all here standing round her, but all in vain. At last
the doctor, half-laughing, half-cursing, said--

"He would bleed her in the foot. Would that do?"

"Yes, she would consent to that; but the doctor must leave the
room while she was getting ready."

So my doctor went out, but on entering again found her sitting on
the bed, dressed in her full convent robes, her head upon Anna
Apenborg's shoulder, and her foot upon a stool. As the foot,
however, was covered with a stocking, the doctor began to scold.

"What was the stocking for? Let him take off the stocking. Was she
making a fool of him? He advised her not to try it."

"No," Dorothea answered, "never would she strip her foot for him.
Die she would if die she must, but that she could never do! If he
could not bleed her through the stocking, he may go his ways."

<i>Summa</i>.--As neither prayers nor threatening were of any
avail, the doctor, in truth, had to bleed her through the
stocking; and scarcely had he finished, when Sidonia sent, saying.

"That she, too, was ill, and wished to be bled."

And there lay my hag alone, in bed, as the doctor entered. She was
right friendly.

"And was it indeed true, that absurd fool Dorothea did not choose
to be bled? Now he saw himself what a set of simpletons she had to
deal with in the convent. No wonder that they all blackened her
and belied her. She was sick from very disgust at such malice and
absurdity. Ah, she regretted now not having married when she had
the opportunity; it would have been better, and she had many
offers. But she always feared she was too poor. However, her
fortune was now excellent, for her sister had died without
children, and left her everything--a very large inheritance, as
she heard. But the dear doctor must taste her beer; she had tapped
some of the best, and there was a fresh can of it on the table."

But my doctor was too cunning not to see what she was driving at;
besides, he had heard of her beer-brewing, so he answered--

"He never drank beer; but what ailed her?"

"Ah, she didn't know herself, but she had a trembling in all her
limbs. Would he not take a glass of mead, or even water? Her old
servant should bring it to him."

"No. Let her just put out her hand for him to feel her pulse."

Instantly she stretched forth, not her hand alone, but her whole
naked, dry, and yellow arm from the bed. Whereupon the doctor
spoke--

"Eh? What should I bleed you for? The pulse is all right. In fact,
old people never should be bled without serious cause; for at
seventy or so, mind ye, every drop is worth a groschen."

"What!" exclaimed Sidonia, starting up; "what the devil, do ye
think I am seventy? Why, I am hardly fifty yet."

"Seventy or fifty," answered the doctor, "it is all much the same
with you women-folk."

"To the devil with you, rude churl!" screamed Sidonia. "If you
will not bleed me, I'll find another who will. Seventy indeed! So
rude a knave is not in the land!"

But my doctor goes away laughing; and as the ducal commissioners
had arrived to try Sidonia's case, with the convent chaplain, he
went down to meet them at Sheriff Sparling's, and these were the
commissioners:--

1. Christian Ludeck, state prosecutor; a brother of the priest's.

2. Johann Wedel of Cremzow.

3. Eggert Sparling, sheriff of Marienfliess.

4. Jobst Bork, governor of Saatzig.

This Jobst was son to that upright Marcus whose wife, Clara von
Dewitz, Sidonia had so miserably destroyed. For his good father's
sake, long since dead, their Graces of Stettin had continued him
in the government of Saatzig, for he walked in his father's steps,
only he was slow of speech; but he had a lovely daughter, yet more
praiseworthy than her grandmother, Clara of blessed memory, of
whom we shall hear more anon.

<i>Summa</i>.--The doctor found all the commissioners assembled in
the sheriff's parlour. <i>Item</i>, Anna Apenborg and the abbess
as witnesses, who deposed to all the circumstances which I have
heretofore related; also, the abbess set forth the prayer of the
sick Dorothea Stettin, that she might be restored to the
sub-prioret out of which the false Sidonia had wickedly talked
her, and now for thanks gave her insolent contempt and mocking
sneers.

Anna Apenborg further deposed, that, looking through the key-hole
of the refectory door one day, she spied the wicked witch boring a
hole in the wall; in this she placed a tun-dish, and immediately
after, a rich stream of cow's milk flowed down into a basin which
Sidonia held beneath, and that same day the best cow in the
convent stopped giving milk, and had never given one drop since.
And because the dairymaid, Trina Pantels, said openly this was
witchcraft, and accused Sidonia and the old hag Wolde of being
evil witches--for she was not a girl to hold her tongue, not
she--her knee swelled up to the size of a man's head, and day and
night she screamed for agony, until another old witch that visited
Sidonia, Lena of Uchtenhagen, for six pounds of wool, gave her a
plaster of honey and meal to put on the knee, and what should be
drawn out of the swelling, but quantities of pins and needles; and
how could this have been, but by Sidonia's witchcraft? [Footnote:
However improbable such accusations may seem, numbers of the like,
some even still more extraordinary, may be found in the witch
trials of that age, by any one who takes the trouble of referring
to them.]

Many witnesses could prove this fact; for Tewes Barth, Dinnies
Koch, and old Fritz were by, when the plaster was taken off.

Then Sheriff Sparling deposed, that having smothered his bees
lately, he sent a pot of pure honey to each of the nuns, as was
his custom; but Sidonia scolded, and said her pot was not large
enough, and abused him in a cruel manner about his stinginess in
not sending her more. So, some days after, as he was riding
quietly home to his house, across the convent court, suddenly the
whole ground before him became covered with the shadows of
bee-hives, and little shadows like bees went in and out, and
wheeled about just as real bees do. Whereupon, he looked in every
direction for the hives, for no shadows can be without a body, but
not a hive nor a bee was in the whole place round; but he heard a
peal of mocking laughter, and, on looking up, there was the wicked
witch looking out at him from a window, and she called out--

"Ho! sir sheriff, when you smother bees again, send me more honey.
A couple of pounds of the best--good weight!"

And this he did to have peace for the future.

Now the commissioners noted all this down diligently; but the
state prosecutor shook his head, and asked the abbess--

"Wherefore she had not long ago brought this vile witch before the
princely court?"

To which she answered, sighing--.

"What would that help? She had already tasted the vengeance of the
wicked sorceress, and feared to taste it again. Well, night and
day had she cried to God to free the convent from this she-devil,
and often resolved to unfold the whole Satan's work to his
Highness, though her own life would be perilled surely by so
doing. But she was ready, as a faithful mother of the convent, to
lay it down for her children, if, indeed, that could save them.
But how would her death help these poor young virgins? For
assuredly the moment Sidonia had brought her to a cruel end, she
would make herself abbess by force, and this was such a dread to
the sorrowing virgins, that they themselves entreated her to keep
silence and be patient, waiting for the mercy of God to help them.
For truly the power of this accursed sorceress was as great as her
wickedness."

Here answered Dr Schwalenberg--

"This power can soon be broken; he knew many receipts out of
Albertus Magnus, Raimundus Lallus, Theophrastus, Paracelsus, &c.,
against sorcery and evil witches."

This was a glad hearing to the state prosecutor, and he answered
with a joyful mien and voice--

"Marry, doctor, if you know how to get hold of this evil hag, do
it at once; we shall then bind her arms, so that she can make no
signs to hurt us, and clap a pitch-plaster on her mouth, to stop
the said mouth from calling the devil to her help; after which, I
can easily bring her with me to Stettin, and answer for all
proceedings to his Grace. Probably she is a-bed still; go back,
and pretend that, upon reflection, you think it will be better to
bleed her. Then, when you have hold of her arm, call in the
fellows, whom the sheriff will, I am sure, allow to accompany
you."

"Yes, yes," cried the sheriff, "take twenty of my men with you, my
good doctor, if you will."

"Well, then," resumed the state prosecutor, "let them rush in,
bind the dragon, clap the pitch-plaster on her mouth, and she is
ours in spite of all the devils."

"Right, all right," cried the doctor; "never fear but I'll pay her
for her matrimonial designs upon me."

And he began to prepare the plaster with some pitch he got from a
cobbler, when suddenly the state prosecutor screamed out--

"Merciful God! see there! Look at the shadow of a toad creeping
over my paper, whereon I move my hand!"

He springs up--wipes, wipes, wipes, but in vain; the unclean
shadow is there still, and crawls over the paper, though never a
toad is to be seen.

What a commotion of horror this Satan's work caused amongst the
bystanders, can be easily imagined. All stood up and looked at the
toad-shadow, when the abbess screamed out, "Merciful God! look
there! look there! The whole floor is covered with toad-shadows!"
Hereupon all the women-folk ran screaming from the room, but
screamed yet louder when they reached the door, and met there
Sidonia and her cat face to face. Round they all wheeled again,
rushed to the back-door, out into the yard, over the pond, and
into the oak-wood, without daring once to look behind them. But
the men remained, for the doctor said bravely, "Wait now, good
friends, patience, she can do us no harm;" and he murmured some
words.

But just as they all made the sign of the cross, and silently put
up a prayer to God, and gathered up their legs on the benches, so
that the unclean shadows might not crawl upon their boots, the
horrible hag appeared at the window, and her cat in his little red
hose clambered up on the sill, mewing and crying (and I think
myself that this cat was her spirit Chim, whom she had sent first
to the sheriff's house to hear what was going on; for how could
she have known it?).

<i>Summa</i>.--She laid one hand upon the window, the better to
look in, and clenching the other, shook it at them, crying out,
"Wait, ye accursed peasant boors, I, too, will judge ye for your
sins!" But seeing her cousin, Jobst Bork, present, she screamed
yet louder--"Eh! thou thick ploughman, hath the devil brought thee
here too? Art thou not ashamed to accuse thy own kinswoman? Wait,
I will give thee something to make thee remember our
relationship!"

And as she began to murmur some words, and spat out before them
all, the state prosecutor jumped up and rushed out after the
women, and Sheriff Sparling rushed out after him, and they never
stopped or stayed till both reached the oak-wood.

But Jobst said calmly, "Cousin, be reasonable; it is my duty!" My
doctor, however, wanted to pay her off for the marriage business,
so he seized a whip with which Sheriff Sparling had been thrashing
a boor, and hurrying out, cried, "I will make her reasonable! Thou
old hag of hell! here is the fit marriage for thee!" and so whack,
whack upon her thin, withered shoulders.

Truly the witch cried out now in earnest, but began to spit at the
same time, so that the doctor had given but four strokes when the
whip fell from his hand, and he tottered hither and thither,
crying, "O Lord! O Lord!" At this the sorceress laughed
scornfully, and mocking his movements, cried out likewise, "O
Lord! O Lord!" and when the poor doctor fell down flat upon the
earth like the old porter and others, she began to dance, chanting
her infernal psalm:--

   "Also kleien und also kratzen,
    Meine Hunde und meine Katzen"

And the cat in his little red hose danced beside her. After which,
she returned laughing to the convent to pray him to death, while
the poor fellow lay groaning and gasping upon the pavement. None
were there to help him, for the state prosecutor and Wedeln had
made off to Stargard as quick as they could go, and Sheriff
Sparling was still hiding in the bush. However, Jobst and the old
dairy-woman helped him up as best he could, and asked what ailed
him? to which he groaned in answer, "There seemed to be some one
sitting inside his breast, and breaking the <i>cartilago
ensiformis</i> horribly asunder. Ah, God! ah, God! he was weak
indeed! his hour was come; let them lay him in a coach, and carry
him directly to Stargard."

This was done as soon as the sheriff could be found; but my
doctor's screams never ceased for three days, after which he gave
up the ghost, and the corpse had the same appearance as that of
the convent porter, which I have already noticed. Thus it happened
with the wise!

But Johann Wedeln fared little better, as we shall see; for after
the doctor's strange death, he said openly everywhere, he would
never rest till the accursed witch was burned. Anna Apenborg
repeated this in the convent, and to Sidonia's maid, upon which
the witch sent for Anna, and asked was the report true? And when
the other did not deny it, she exclaimed, "Now for this shall the
knave be contracted all his life long, and twist his mouth
<i>thus</i>." Whereupon she mimicked how his shoulders would be
drawn up to his ears, and twisted her mouth in horrible
contortions, so that it was a shame and sin to look at her. And
truly this misfortune fell upon him from that hour. And afterwards
when he heard of her wickedness, from Anna Apenborg and others,
and brought her to an account for her sorcery in Stettin, she made
him bite the dust and lie in his coffin ere long, out of malice
and terrible revenge, as we shall hear further on.




CHAPTER VII.

<i>How the assembled Pomeranian princes hold a council over
Sidonia</i> [Footnote: Note of Bogislaff XIV.--I was not present
at this council, for I was holding my espousals at the time. (The
Duke married the Princess Elizabeth von Schleswig Holstein in
1615, but left no heirs.)] <i>and at length cite her to appear at
the ducal court.</i>


When the state prosecutor, Christian Ludeck, reached Stettin with
his appalling news, the Duke was seriously troubled in mind as to
how he could best save the holy sisterhood, and indeed the whole
land, from the terrible Satanic power and murderous malice of this
cruel sorceress. So he summoned all the princes of his family to a
convocation on a certain day, at Old Stettin; but when they
arrived, his Grace was absent, for he had gone to Coblentz on some
business, and here was the matter.

His steward, Jeremias Schroter, was an unworthy agent, as his
Grace heard; and when the time came for the poor people to get
their oats or corn, he sent round and made them all give their
receipts first, saying "They should have their corn after;" but
when they went to bring it home, he beat them, and asked what they
meant--he had their receipts: they were cheats, and should get no
more corn from him.

Now, a poor parson's widow came up all the way to Stettin, to
complain of the steward to his Highness, who was shocked at such
knavery, and determined to go down himself to Coblentz and make
inquiries; for the steward swore that the people were liars, and
had defamed him.

The Duke therefore bid the chancellor, Martin Chemnitz, entertain
his princely brothers until his return, which would not be before
evening, and to show them his painting and sculpture galleries,
and whatever else in the castle might please them. And now to show
the good heart of his Grace, I must mention that, seeing the poor
widow was tired with her six miles' walk, he bid her get up beside
the coachman on the box of his carriage, and he would drive her
himself to her own place.

Meanwhile the young princes arrived, and the court marshal, the
chancellor, the aforesaid state prosecutor, and other high
officials, received them on behalf of his Highness. Doctor Cramer,
<i>vice-superintendens</i>, my esteemed father-in-law, was also
present--<i>item</i>, Doctor Constantius Oesler.

They were first led into the picture-gallery by the chancellor
(although Duke George cared little about such matters), where
there was a costly collection of paintings by Perugino, Raphael,
Titian, Bellini, &c.--<i>item</i>, statues, vases, coins, and
medals, all of which his Grace had brought lately from Italy. Here
also there was a large book, covered with crimson velvet, lying
open, in which his Grace the Duke had written down many extracts
from the sermons of Doctor Cramer and Mag. Reutzio, with marginal
Latin notes of his own; for the Duke had a table in his oratory or
closet in St. Mary's Church, that he might write down what pleased
him, and a Greek and Latin Bible laid thereon. This book was,
therefore, a right pleasing sight to Doctor Cramer, who stood and
read his own sermons over again with great relish, while the
others examined the paintings.

When they grew weary, the chancellor conducted them to the
library, which contained ten thousand books. But Duke Ulrich said,
"Marry, dear brothers, what the devil is there to see here? Let us
rather go down to the stables, and examine my new Danish horses;
then come up to my quarters (for his Grace lived with his brother,
Duke Philip), and have a good Pomeranian carouse to pass away the
time; for as to these fooleries, which have cost our good brother
such a mint of money, I would not give a dollar for them all."

So they ran down the steps leading to the stables; but first he
brought them into the hunting-hall, belonging to his quarter,
which was decorated, and covered all along the walls with
hunting-horns, rifles, cross-bows, and hunting-knives and pouches,
with the horns of all sorts of animals killed in the chase.
Whereupon Duke George said, "He was content to remain here--the
horses he could see on the morrow."

So he sat down by the wine-flask, which lay there already upon the
table; and while Duke Ulrich was trying to persuade him to come to
the stables, saying he could have the wine-flask after, the door
opened, and his Highness Duke Philip unexpectedly entered the
apartment.

He embraced all his dear brothers, and then, turning to Duke
Francis, the bishop, said, "Tell me, dear Fra (so he always called
him, for his Grace spoke Italian and Latin like German), is there
any hope of a christening at thy castle? Oh, say yes, and I will
give thee a duchy for my godchild."

But Bishop Francis answered mournfully, "No!" Then Duke Philip
turned to another--"How say you, brother--mayhap there is hope of
an heir to Wolgast?"

"None, alas!" was the answer.

"No, no!" exclaimed the Duke, "and there is no hope for me
either--none!" Then he walked up and down the hall in great
agitation, at last stopped, and lifting up his hands to heaven,
cried, "Merciful God, a child, a child! Is my whole ancient race
to perish? Wilt Thou slay us, as Thou didst the first-born of
Egypt? Oh! a child, a child!"

Here Doctor Cramerus advanced humbly, and said, "Your Highness
should have faith. Remember what St. Paul says (Rom. iv.)
concerning the faith of Abraham and Sarah; and Abraham was a
hundred years old, whereas your Highness is scarce forty,
therefore why despair of the mercy of God? Besides, many of his
brothers were still unwed."

Hereat his Grace stood silent, and looked round at his dear
brothers; but Duke George exclaimed, "You need not look at me,
dear brother, for I mean never to marry" (which, indeed, was the
truth, for he died some short time after at Buckow, whether
through Sidonia's witchcraft I know not, at the age of thirty-five
years, and unmarried. One thing, however, is certain, that his
death was as strange as the others; for in seven days he was well,
sick, dead, buried). [Footnote: There was formerly a Cistercian
monastery at Buckow, in the chapel of which still hangs a picture
of this Prince. Like most of his race, the face is in the highest
degree unmeaning; indeed, nothing more can be said of him than
that he was born and died.]

<i>Summa</i>.--His Highness first excused himself to his
illustrious brothers for his absence, and related the cause, how
his knave of a steward had been oppressing the poor, whereupon he
determined to go himself and avenge their injuries; for a prince
should be the father of his people, and it was a blessed work, the
Scripture said, to visit the fatherless and widows in their
affliction (James i. 27). So he hid himself in a little closet,
where he could hear everything in the widow's house, and then bid
her send for the steward; and when he came, the widow asked for
her corn, as usual, but he said, "She must give him the receipt
first, and then she might have it;" upon which she gave him the
receipt, and he went away. Then the Duke bid the widow send a
peasant and his cart for the corn; however, the old answer came
back--"She was a cheat--what did she mean? He had her receipt in
his hand."

Upon this the Duke drove himself to the knave, and made him, in
his presence, pay down all the arrears of corn to the widow; then
he beat him black and blue, for a little parting remembrance, and
dismissed him ignominiously from his service. After this he had
thoughts of driving round to visit Prechln of Buslar, for the
rumour was afloat that Sidonia had bewitched his little son
Bartel, scarcely yet a year old, and made him grow a beard on his
chin like an old carl's, that reached down to his little stomach.
But as his dear brothers were waiting for him, his Grace had given
up this journey, particularly as he wished to hear their opinions
without delay as to what could be done to free the land from this
evil sorceress Sidonia. Hereupon he bade Christian Ludeck, the
state prosecutor, to read the proceedings at Marienfliess from his
notes.

As he proceeded to read the Acta, the listeners crossed and
blessed themselves; at last Duke Francis, the bishop, spake--"Did
I not say well, when years ago, in Oderkrug, I prayed our father
of blessed memory to burn this vile limb of Satan for a terrible
example? But my good brother Philip sided against me with my
father, and he was deemed the wiser. Who is the wiser now, I
wonder--eh?"

Then Duke Philip asked Dr. Cramer, "What he thought of the matter
as <i>theologus</i>?" who answered, "Your Grace must spare me; I
will accuse no one, not even Sidonia, for though such things
appear verily to be done by the help of the devil, yet had they no
proof, seeing that no <i>medicus</i> had hitherto dissected any
one of the <i>cadavera</i> which it was avowed Sidonia had
bewitched to death."

Hereupon Dr. Constantius spake that he had already, by legal
permission, dissected the body of his colleague, Dr. Schwalenberg,
and delivered over the <i>visum repertum</i> to his Grace's
chancellor. Then he described the appearances, which were truly
singular, particularly that of the <i>cartilago ensiformis</i>.
<i>Item</i>, concerning the <i>valvulae tricuspidales</i>, through
which the blood falls into the heart. They were so powerfully
contracted that the blood was forced to take another course, for
which reason, probably, the corpse seemed so dreadfully
discoloured. <i>Item</i>, the <i>vena pulmonalis</i> had burst,
from which cause the doctor had spit blood to the last. And
lastly, the <i>glandulae sublinguales</i> were so swollen that the
tongue could not remain in the mouth. Such a death was not
natural; that he averred. But whether Sidonia's sorcery had caused
it, or it were sent as a peculiar punishment by God, that he would
not say; he agreed with the excellent Dr. Cramer, and thought it
better to accuse no one.

"Now by the cross!" cried Duke Francis, "what else is it but
devil's work? But the lords were very lukewarm, and resolved not
to peril themselves; <i>that</i> he saw. However, if his brother,
Duke Philip, permitted the whole princely race to be thus
bewitched to death, he would have to answer for it at the day of
judgment. He prayed him, therefore, for the love of God, to send
for the hag instantly, and drag her to the scaffold."

Hereat Duke Philip sank his head upon his arm, and was silent a
long space. But the state prosecutor gave answer--"Marry! will
your Episcopal Highness then take the trouble to tell us, who is
to seize the hag? I will do it not, and who else will? for,
methinks, whoever touches her must needs be sore tired of life."

"If no one else will," returned the bishop, "my Camyn executioner,
Master Radeck, will surely do it, for he never feared a witch;
besides, he knows all their <i>arcana</i>."

Meanwhile, as Duke Philip still sat in deep thought, and played
with a quill, the door opened, and a lacquey entered with a
message from the noble Prechln of Buslar, requesting an
<i>audienza</i> of his Grace. He had an infant in his arms which a
wicked witch had prayed to death, and the child had a beard on it
like an old man, so that all in the castle were terrified at the
sight.

His Grace Duke Philip instantly started up. "Merciful God! is it
true?" waved his hand to the lacquey, who withdrew, and then
walked up and down, exclaiming still, "Merciful God! what can be
done?"

"Torture! burn! kill!" cried Duke Francis, the bishop "and
to-morrow, if it be possible. I shall send this night for my
executioner! trust to him. He will soon screw the soul out of the
vile hag; take my word for it."

"Ay! torture! burn! kill!" cried also the state prosecutor, "and
the sooner the better, gracious master. For God's sake, no mercy
more!"

Here the door opened, and Prechln of Buslar entered, pale as the
infant corpse that lay upon his arms. This corpse was dressed in
white with black ribbons, and a wreath of rosemary encircled the
little head; but, what was strange and horrible, a long black
beard depended from the infant's chin, which the wind, as the door
opened, blew backward and forward in the sorrowing father's face.
After him came his wife, wringing her hands wildly from grief, and
an old serving-maid.

Truly the whole convocation shuddered at the sight, but Bishop
Francis was the first to speak--

"And this is no devil's work?" he exclaimed. "Now, by my faith, ye
and your wise doctors are fools if ye deny this evidence. Come
nearer, poor fellow; set the corpse of your child down, and tell
us how it came to pass. We had heard of your strange affliction,
and just spoke thereon as you entered. Ha! the sorceress cannot
escape us now, methinks."

Now, when the mourning father began to tell the story, his wife
set up such a weeping and lamentation, and the old nurse followed
her example after such a lugubrious fashion, that their lordships
could not hear a word. Whereupon his Grace Duke Philip was obliged
earnestly to request that the women should keep silence whilst
Prechln of Buslar spoke.

I have already mentioned what grudge Sidonia had against him,
because he refused to acknowledge himself her feudal vassal by
kissing her hand; also, how she accused him afterward of stealing
her dog. This the poor knight related now at length, and with many
tears, and continued--

"During the strife between them, she one day spat upon both his
little sons, and the eldest, Dinnies, a fine fellow of seven years
old, who was playing with a slipper at the time under the table,
died first. But the accursed witch had stepped over to the cradle
where his little Bartholomew lay sleeping, while this old nurse,
Barbara Kadows, rocked him, and murmuring some words, spat upon
him, and then went away, cursing, from the house. So the spell was
put upon both children that same day, and Dinnies took sick
directly, and in three days was a corpse; but on his little Memi
first grew this great black beard which their lordships all saw,
and then he likewise died, after crying three days and three
nights in horrible torture." The old nurse confirmed all this, and
said--

"That when the horrible hag knelt down by the cradle to blow upon
the child, she turned up her eyes, so that nothing but the whites
could be seen. Ah! what a wicked old hag that could not spare a
child like that, and could put such an old man's beard on its
little face."

Then Duke Philip asked the knight if he had accused Sidonia of the
witchcraft, and what had she answered?

"Ah yes, he had done so, but by letter, for he feared to go to
Marienfliess, lest it might happen to him as to others who met her
face to face, and his messenger brought back a letter in answer,
by which their lordships could see how her arrogance equalled her
wickedness," and he drew forth her letter from his bosom, and
handed the same to his Highness. Now Bishop Francis would have
prevented his brother touching the letter, but Duke Philip had a
brave heart, and taking it boldly, read aloud as follows:--

"SIDONIA, BY THE GRACE OF GOD, PRIORESS OF THE NOBLE CONVENT OF
MARIENPLIESS, LADY AND HEIRESS OP THE LANDS AND CASTLE OF
STRAMEHL, LABES, REGENWALD, WANGERIN, AND OTHERS--GREETING."

"GOOD FRIEND AND VASSAL,"

"Touching your foul accusation respecting your two brats, and my
bewitching them to death, I shall only say you must be mad. I have
long thought that pride would turn your brain: now I see it has
been done. If Bartel has got a beard, send for soap and shave him.
As to yourself, I counsel you to come to Marienfliess to old
Kathe, she knows how to turn the brain right again with a wooden
bowl. Pour hot water therein, three times boiled, set the bowl on
your head, and over the bowl an inverted pot; then, as the water
is drawn up into the empty pot, so will the madness be drawn up
out of your brain into the wooden bowl, and all will be right
again. It is a good receipt; I counsel you to try it. She only
desires you to kiss her hand in return. Such is the advice of your
feudal lady and seigneuress,

"SIDONIA BORK."

His Highness had hardly finished reading the letter, when Bishop
Francis cried out--

"What the devil, brother, hast thou made the murderous dragon a
prioress?"

But his Highness knew nothing of it, and wondered much likewise.
Whereupon the state prosecutor told them how it came about, and
that poor Dorothea Stettin had been talked out of her situation by
the dragon, as was all here to be seen set down in full in the
indictment; but, as the case was not now under discussion, he
would pass it over, although great quarrels and scandal prevailed
in the convent in consequence, and poor Dorothea lay sick,
earnestly desiring to be restored to her prioret.

Bishop Francis now grew yet more angry--

"Give the witch a prioret in hell," he cried. "What would his dear
brother do, now that the proofs were in his hands?"

To which Duke Philip answered mildly--

"Dear Fra, think on my symbol, C. & R." (that is, <i>Christo et
Reipublicae</i>, for Christ and the State). "Let us not be
over-hasty. Suppose that Dr. Constantinus should first dissect
this poor infant, and see what really caused its death."

Thereat the doctor plunged his hand in his pocket, to draw forth
his case of instruments, but the mother screamed out, and ran to
tear the child from him--"No, no; they should never cut up her
little Memi!" <i>Item</i>, the maid screamed out, "No, no; she
would lose her life first!" <i>Item</i>, the father stood still
and trembled, but said never a word.

What was to be done now? His Grace repented of his hastiness, and
at last said--

"Well, then, friends, let the doctor examine the infant
externally, look into its mouth, &c."

And when the parents consented to this, his Grace prayed them
gently to withdraw with him into another apartment while the
examination was made, as such a sight might give them pain. To
this also they consented, and his Grace led the way to another
hall (giving a sign privately to the doctor to do his business
properly), where a splendid collation was served. After which,
just to detain them longer, his Grace brought them to visit the
picture-gallery.

<i>Summa</i>.--When they returned, the dissection had been
accomplished, at which sight the parents and the maid screamed;
but his Grace confuted them, saying--

"That the ends of justice required it. He would now take the case
into his own hands, and they might return quietly to their own
castle and bury their infant, who would sleep as well dissected as
entire."

Having at last calmed them somewhat, they kissed his hand and took
their leave.

Meanwhile the two young Dukes, Ulrich and George, finding the time
hang heavy, had slipped away from the council-board, and gone down
to the ducal stables.

When his Highness noticed their absence, he sent a page bidding
them return and give their opinion in council as to what should be
done next. But they sent back an answer--"Let the lords do what
they pleased; as for them they were off to the chase, seeing it
was pleasanter to hunt a hare than a witch."

Now Bishop Francis stormed in earnest.

"Marry, some folk would not believe in witchcraft, till they stood
with their heels turned toward heaven; and here these idle
younkers must needs ride off to the chase when the life and death
of our race hangs in the balance. I say again, brother, torture,
burn, kill, and as soon as may be."

But Duke Philip still answered mildly--

"Dear Fra, the <i>medicus</i> hath just pronounced that the corpse
of the poor child presents no unnatural appearances; and as to the
beard, this may just as well be a <i>miraculum Dei</i> as a
<i>miraculum damonis</i>, therefore I esteem it better to cite
Sidonia to our court, and admonish her strenuously to all good."

This course had little favour from Bishop Francis; but when the
state prosecutor agreed with his Highness, and Dr. Cramerus
praised so Christian and merciful a resolve, he was at last
content, particularly as some one said (I forget who, but I rather
think it was the chancellor, Martinus Chemnitz), that Mag. Joel of
Grypswald gave it as his opinion that it would be a matter of
trouble and danger to seize the witch, seeing that her familiar,
the spirit Chim, was a mighty and strong spirit, and capable of
taking great revenge on any who laid hand upon her; but that he,
Mag. Joel, would do for him easily if he came in his way.

This intelligence gave the bishop great comfort, and he instantly
despatched a letter to Mag. Joel, bidding him come forthwith to
Stettin, whilst the chancellor prepared a <i>Citationem realem
sive personalem</i> for Sidonia, which contained the following:--

"WE, PHILIP, BY THE GRACE OF GOD, &c.,

"Command thee, Sidonia von Bork, conventual and not prioress of
the noble convent of Marienfliess, to appear before us, at our
court of Stettin, on the 15th day of July, at three of the clock,
to answer for the evil deeds whereof thou art accused, under
punishment of banishment, forfeiture, and great danger to thy body
and life. Against such, therefore, take thou heed.

"Signatum, Old Stettin, 10th July 1616.

"PHILIPPUS, <i>manu sua</i>."




CHAPTER VIII.

<i>Of Sidonia's defence--Item, how she has a quarrel with Joachim
Wedel, and bewitches him to death</i>.


At three of the clock on the appointed day, the grand Rittersaal
(knights' hall) of the stately castle of Old Stettin was crowded
with ministers, councillors, and officials, who had met there by
command of their illustrious mightinesses, Duke Philip, Prince and
Lord of Stettin, and Francis, Bishop of Camyn. Amongst the nobles
assembled were Albert, Count of Eberstein, Lord of Neugarten and
Massow; Eustache Flemming, hereditary Grand Marshal; Christoph von
Mildenitz, privy councillor and dean of the honourable chapter of
Camyn; Caspar von Stogentin, captain at Friedrichswald; Christoph
von Plate, master of the ceremonies; Martin Chemnitz, Chancellor
of Pomerania; Dr. Cramer, my worthy lord father-in-law,
<i>vice-superintendens</i>; Dr. Constantius Oesler,
<i>medicus</i>; Christian Ludeck, attorney-general; Mag. Joel of
Grypswald, and many others. These all stood in two long rows,
waiting for their princely Graces. For it was rumoured that
Sidonia had already arrived with the fish-sellers from Grabow,
which, indeed, was the case; and she had, moreover, packed seven
hogsheads of her best beer on the waggon along with her, purposing
to sell it to profit in the town; but the devil truly got his
profit out of the said beer, for by it not only our good town of
Stettin, but likewise the whole land, was nearly brought to ruin
and utter destruction, as we shall hear further on.

<i>Summa</i>.--When all the afore-named were ranged in rank and
order, the great doors of the hall were flung wide open, and Duke
Philip entered first. Every one knows that he was small, delicate,
almost thin in person, pale of face, with a moustache On his upper
lip, and his hair combed <i>a la Nazarena</i>. [Footnote: Divided
in the centre, and falling down straight at each side, as in the
pictures of our Saviour.] He wore a yellow doublet with
silver-coloured satin sleeves, scarlet hose trimmed with gold
lace, white silk stockings, and white boots, with gold spurs;
round his neck was a Spanish ruff of white point lace, and by his
side a jewel-hilted sword; his breast and girdle were also
profusely decorated with diamonds. So his Highness advanced up the
hall, wearing his grey beaver hat, from which drooped a stately
plume of black herons' feathers, fastened with an aigrette of
diamonds. This he did not remove, as was customary, until all
present had made their obeisance and deferentially kissed his
hand. Duke Francis followed in his episcopal robes, with a mitre
upon his head, and a bishop's crook of ivory in his hand. The
other young dukes, Ulrich, George, and Bogislaus, remained
cautiously away. [Footnote: Note of Bogislaff XIV.--Yes; but not
out of fear. I was celebrating my espousals, as I have said.]

And the blood-standard waved from the towers, and the princely
soldatesca, with all the officers, lined the castle court, so that
nothing was left undone that could impress this terrible sorceress
with due fear and respect for their illustrious Graces.

And when the order was given for Sidonia to be admitted, the two
Princes leaned proudly on a table at the upper end of the hall,
while the assembled nobles formed two long lines at each side.
Three rolls of the drum announced the approach of the prisoner.
But when she entered, accompanied by the lord provost, in her
nun's robes and white veil, on which the key of her office was
embroidered in gold, a visible shudder passed over her frame;
collecting herself, however, quickly, she advanced to kiss their
Graces' hands, but Bishop Francis, after he had drawn his
<i>symbolum</i> with chalk before him on the table, namely, H, H,
H, that is, "Help, helper, help," cried out, "Back, Satan! stir
not from thy place; and know that if thou shouldst attempt any of
thy diabolical sorceries upon my dear lord and brother here (as
for me, this honourable, consecrated, and priestly robe saves me
from thy power) thou shalt be torn limb from limb, and thy members
flung to feed the dogs, while thou art yet living to behold it,
accursed, thrice-accursed witch!"

And his Grace, in his great rage against her, struck the table
with his ivory crook, so that he broke a bottle filled with red
ink which stood thereon, and the said ink (alas! what an evil
omen) poured down upon Duke Philip's white silk stockings, and
stained them red like blood.

Meanwhile Sidonia exclaimed, "What! is there no leech here to feel
the pulse of his Serene Highness? Surely the dog-days, that we are
in the middle of, have turned his brain completely. Any little bit
of mother-wit he might have had is clean gone. What! she had
scarcely entered--knew not yet of what she was accused, and she
was 'Satan!' 'a thrice-accursed witch!' who was to be cut up into
little bits to feed dogs! Had any man ever heard the like? Would
the nobles of Pomerania, whom she saw around her, suffer one of
their own rank--a lady of castles and lands--to be thus handled?
She called upon them all as witnesses, and after the
<i>audienza</i> a notary should be summoned to note all down, for
she would assuredly appeal to the states of the kingdom, and bring
her cause before the Emperor."

Hereupon Duke Philip interposed--"Lady, our dear brother is of a
hasty temperament; yet you can scarce wonder at his speech, or
take it ill, when you consider the terrible evils which you have
brought upon our ancient and illustrious race. However, as an
upright and good prince must judge the cause of his subjects
before his own, I shall first inquire what caused the sudden
illness of the sheriff, Eggert Sparling, and of the abbess,
Magdalena, that time they brought my father's letter to you?--that
letter which you said was a forgery, and flung into the fire."

<i>Illa.</i>--"What caused it? How could she remember? It was a
long time ago; but so far as she recollected, they came in when
she was brewing beer or cooking sausages, and she opened the
window to admit fresh air; before this window they both sat and
talked, to be out of the smell of the cooking; could they not have
got rheumatism by such means? Let his Grace ask the doctors did it
require witchcraft to give a man the rheumatism, who sat in a
draught of air?"

<i>The Duke</i>.--"But both were cured again as quickly as they
had taken it."

<i>Illa>/i>.--"Ah, yes! She would have done her best to cure even
her greatest enemy, for the holy Saviour had said, 'Bless them
that curse you; do good to them that hate you; pray for them that
persecute you.' To such commands of her Lord she had ever been a
faithful servant, and therefore searched out of her cookery-book
for a <i>sympatheticum</i>, but for thanks, lo, now what she gets!
Such was the way of this wicked world. Perhaps my gracious lord
would like to know of the <i>sympatheticum</i>; she would say it
for him, if he wished."

"Keep it to yourself, woman," roared Duke Francis, "and tell us
why you burned my father's letter?"

<i>Illa</i>.--"Because, in truth, she deemed it a forgery. How
could she believe a knave who had already deceived his own
gracious Prince? For did not this base sheriff appropriate to his
own use eleven mares, one hundred sheep, sixteen head of cattle,
and forty-two boars, all the property of his Highness, to the
great detriment of the princely revenue. <i>Item</i>, at the last
cattle sale he had put three hundred florins into his own bag, and
many more evil deceits had this wicked cheat practised."

"Keep to the question," cried Duke Philip, "and answer only what
you are asked. What was that matter concerning the priest which
caused you to complain of him to our princely consistorium?"

<i>Illa.</i>--"Ay! and no notice taken, though it was a scandal
that cried to Heaven, how this licentious young carl was admitted
into the convent as chaplain, when the regulations especially
declared that an honourable <i>old</i> man should hold the office.
She prayed, therefore, that another priest might be appointed."

Hereat my worthy father-in-law, Dr. Cramer, said, "Good lady, be
not so hasty; from all we have heard, this priest is a right
worthy and discreet young man."

<i>Illa.</i>--"Right worthy and discreet, truly! as her old maid
could testify; or the abbess, with whom he locked himself up; or
Dorothea Stettin, with whom he was discovered behind the holy
altar. Fie! The scandal that such a fellow should be convent
chaplain! and that a Christian government should suffer it!"
(spitting three times on the ground.)

<i>The Duke</i>.--"The inquiry concerning him was pending. For
what cause had she forced herself into the sub-prioret?"

<i>Illa.</i>--"She! Forced herself! Forced herself into the
sub-prioret! What devil had invented this story? Why, the abbess
and the whole convent were witness that she was forced into it;
for as Dorothea Stettin was ashamed after that business behind the
altar when she was discovered with the priest--besides, was a
weak, silly thing at all times--she had consented to relieve her
from the sub-prioret at her (Dorothea's) earnest supplication and
prayer."

<i>The Duke</i>.--"Wherefore had she treated the novices with such
cruelty, and run at them with axes and knives, to do them grievous
bodily harm?"

<i>Illa.</i>--"They were a set of young wantons, always gossiping
about marriage and loons, therefore she had held a strict hand
over them, which she would not deny; particularly as if any of the
nuns fell into sin, the law decreed that she was to be beheaded.
Was she therefore wrong or right? Truly the abbess said nothing,
for she was as bad as any of them, and had locked herself up with
the priest."

<i>The Duke.</i>--"What caused the sudden death of the convent
porter?"

<i>Illa</i>.-"What! was this, too, laid on her as a crime? Why, at
last, if any one died in Wolgast, or another in Marienfliess
during her absence, she would have to answer for it."

<i>The Duke</i>.--"But Dr. Schwalenberg had died in the self-same
way, and as suddenly--tumbling down dead upon the pavement."

<i>Illa</i>.--"The knave was so drunk when he ran after her with a
horsewhip to beat her, that he tumbled down on the stones; and
mayhap the shock killed him, as it did that other knave who flung
her against the wall; or that he got a fit; for such would have
been a just judgment of God on him, as it is written (Malachi iii.
5), 'I will be a swift witness for the widow and the orphan.' Ah!
truly she was a poor orphan, and the just God had been her swift
witness; for which, all praise and glory be to His name for ever"
(weeping).

Here Christoph Mildenitz, canon of Camyn, exclaimed, "Marry, thou
wicked viper, I have seen the corpse of this same Schwalenberg
myself, and every one, even the physicians, said that he had died
no natural death."

<i>Illa</i>.--"Must the fat canon put in his word now? Ha! this
was her thanks for the gloves she had knit him, and which he wore
at this present moment, for she knew them, even at that distance,
by the black seams round the thumbs. But so it was ever: she had
no greater enemies than those whom she had done kindness to."

<i>The Duke</i>.--"Prechln von Buslar also accused her of having
brought his two sons to death, and making a long man's beard grow
upon the little Bartel."

<i>Illa</i> (laughing).--"Ah! it is easy to see by your Grace that
we are in the dog-days. Your Highness must pardon my mirth; but
who could help it? Merciful God! are Thy wonders, sent to fright
the world and turn men from sin, to be called devil's sorceries!
To what a pass is the world come! Has your Highness forgotten all
history? Know you not that God gives many signs to His people, and
speaks in wonders? Yet, when did men, till now, say that these
signs were of the devil alone, and persecute and destroy helpless
women by reason of them? Speak, gracious Duke--speak, ye noble
lords--have ye not tortured, and burned, and put to death weak and
innocent women without number for these things, and must ye needs
now seek my life? And when was it ever known, till now, that
nobles sat in judgment upon one of their own rank--a lady of as
high blood and proud descent as any of ye here--for old wives'
tales like these, and children's fooleries? Speak! Whoso saith I
lie, let him step forward and convict me." [Footnote: It was a
fact that the persecution of witches had risen at this period
almost to a mania.]

There was a dead silence in the hall when she had ended, and even
Duke Philip looked down ashamed, for he could not but acknowledge
that she spoke the truth, however unwillingly he believed aught
the vile sorceress uttered.

At last Bishop Francis spake--"Why then didst thou blow upon the
children of Prechln of Buslar, if it were not to bewitch them to
death?"

Whereupon the witch answered scornfully--"If that could kill, then
were we all dead long since, for the wind blows on us every
minute, and we blow upon our hot broth to cool it, yet who dies
thereof? How could a bishop be so sunk in superstition? As to
Prechln of Buslar, no wonder if God had smitten him for his pride
and arrogance, as it is said (Luke i. 51), 'He scatters such as
are proud of heart,' for, though her feudal vassal, he had refused
to do her homage; therefore here was no witch-work, but only God's
work, testifying against sinful haughtiness and pride.

"Moreover, it was false that she had blown upon the children; the
silly fool Prechln had imagined it all--nothing was too absurd for
stupidity like his to believe; and what then? Can't people die but
by witchcraft? Did St. Peter bewitch that covetous knave Ananias
(Acts v.) when he fell down dead at his feet for having lied to
the Holy Ghost? Let the honourable convocation answer her truly."

<i>Summa.--The end of all was (as we may imagine) that the cunning
Satan was allowed to depart in peace, only receiving a wholesome
admonition from his Highness Duke Philip, and another from my
worthy father-in-law, Dr. Cramer.

But what happened as she returned to her lodgment in the Ruedenberg
Street? Behold Joachim Wedel of Cremzow, whom she had made
contracted, sat at his window to enjoy the air, but the evil hag
no sooner looked up and saw him than she began to mock him,
twisting her mouth awry, even as he twisted his mouth. When he
observed her, his face grew red with anger, and he cried out of
the window, "Ha, thou accursed witch, I am not so
help--help--help--helpless as thou thinkest; so do not
twi--twi--twi--twist thy mouth at me that way."

To which Sidonia only answered with the one word "Wait!" and
passed on, but returned soon again with a notary and two witnesses
(one was the landlord of the inn where she had left her beer),
stepped up to the chamber where Joachim sat, and bid them take
down that he had called her an accursed witch while she was
quietly going along the street to her lodgment.

Poor Wedel vainly tried to speak in his defence; the hag
maintained her assertion, and prayed that the just God who brought
all liars to destruction would avenge her cause, if it were His
gracious will, for the Scripture said (Psalm v. 7), "I will
destroy them that speak leasing." Therefore she left him and all
her other enemies in the hand of God. He would take vengeance!

And oh, horror! scarcely had she returned to her lodgment when the
poor man began to scream, "There is some one sitting within my
breast, and lifting up the breast-bone!" Thus he screamed and
screamed three days and three nights long; no physician, not even
Dr. Constantinus, could help him, and finally, when he died, his
body presented the same appearances precisely as those of Dr.
Schwalenberg and the convent porter, as the doctors who dissected
him affirmed upon oath. He was a clever man, learned and well
read, and left <i>Annales</i> behind him, a work which this cruel
witch caused to remain unfinished.

And further, it was a strange thing (whether of witchcraft or of
God, I cannot say) that except my gracious Duke Philip, almost
every one present at this remarkable <i>colloquium</i> died within
the year; for example, Count Albert, Eustache Flemming, Caspar von
Stogentin, Christoph von Mildenitz--all lay in their graves before
the year was out. [Footnote: Some place the death of Joachim Wedel
so early as 1606. The whole matter is taken, almost word for word,
from the criminal records in the Berlin Library; and, according to
Daehnert, the first question on the book concerned the death of
this man. His, <i>Annales</i> include the years from 1501 to 1606;
they contain the whole history of that period, but the work has
never been printed. Daehnert, however, vol. ii. Pomeranian Library,
gives some extracts therefrom; also, in Franz Kock's
"Recollections of Dr. John Bugenhagen," Stettin, 1817, we find
this chronicle quoted.]




CHAPTER IX.

<i>How a strange woman (who must assuredly have been Sidonia)
incites the lieges of his Grace to great uproar and tumult in
Stettin, by reason of the new tax upon beer</i>.


My gracious Prince will perhaps say, "But, Theodore, how comes it
that this hag, who in her youth could not be brought to learn the
catechism, quoted Scripture in her old days like a priest?"

I answer--Serene Prince and Lord, that seems in my opinion because
the evil witch found that Scripture, when not taught of God, can
be made to serve the devil's purposes. For this reason she studied
therein; not to make honey, but to extract poison, as your Grace
may have perceived in her strifes with individuals, and even with
the constituted authorities. Further, methinks, she must also have
studied in history books, for how else could she have discoursed
upon political matters so as to raise the whole population of
Stettin into open revolt, as we shall soon see. However, I leave
these questions undecided, and shall only state facts, leaving the
rest for your Highness's judgment.

The day following that on which Sidonia had been tried before the
noble convocation (and she must have still been in the town, I
think, for it was late in the previous evening when she bewitched
Joachim Wedel), the priest of St. Nicholas read out after the
sermon, before the whole congregation, the ducal order declaring
that, from that date forward, the quart of beer, hitherto sold for
a Stralsund shilling, should not be sold under sixteen Pomeranian
pence. This caused great murmurs and discontent among the people;
and when they came out of church they rushed to the inn, where
Sidonia had been staying, to discuss the matter freely, and
screamed and roared, and gesticulated amongst themselves, saying,
"The council had no right to raise the price of beer; they were a
set of rogues that ought to be hung," &c., and they struck
fiercely on the table, so that the glasses rang. Just then an old
hag came to the door, but not in a cloister habit. She had a black
plaster upon her nose, and complained how she had hurt herself by
falling on the sharp stones, which had put her nose out of joint.

"People talked of this new decree--was it true that the poor folk
were to pay sixteen Pomeranian pence for a quart of beer?--O God!
what the cruelty and avarice of princes could do. But she scarcely
believed the report, for she brewed beer herself better than any
brewer in the land, and yet could sell the quart for eightpence,
and have profit besides. Oh, that princes and ministers could rob
the poor man so! ay, they would take the very shirt off his back
to glut their own greed and covetousness. And what did they give
their hard-earned gold for? To build fine houses for the Prince,
forsooth, and fill them with fine pictures from Italy, and
statues, as if he were a brat of a school-girl, and must have his
dolls to play with."

"What sort is your beer, old dame?" asked a fellow. "Marry, it
must be strange trash, I warrant."

<i>Illa</i>.--"No, no; if they would not believe her word, let
them taste the beer. She wanted nothing further but to prove how
the wicked government oppressed the poor folk; for she was a
God-fearing woman, and her heart was filled with grief to see how
the princes lately, in this poor Pomerania, squeezed the very
life-blood out of the people," &c. Then she lifted up a barrel of
beer upon the table (I have already said that Sidonia had brought
some with her to sell), and invited the discontented people to
taste it, which they were nothing loth to do, and soon broached
the said barrel. Then, having tasted, they extolled her beer to
the skies--"No better had ever been brewed." Now other troops of
the discontented came pouring in from Lastadie, Wiek, &c.,
cursing, and swearing, and shouting--"The beer must not be raised;
they would force the government to take off the tax. Would not
their comrades join?"

This was fine fun to the old hag, and she produced another barrel
of beer, which the mob emptied speedily, and then began talking,
shouting, screaming, roaring like flocks of wild geese; and when
the old hag saw that they had got enough under their caps to make
them quite desperate, she began--

"Was not her beer as good as any beer in the duchy?"

"Ay, ay--better!" shouted the mob, "Where dost thou live, mother?"

To this she gave no answer, but continued: "Yet this beer cost but
eightpence a quart, by which they could see how the wicked and
cruel government oppressed them. Oh, it was a sin that cried to
Heaven, to see how princes and nobles scourged and skinned the
poor folk. They swilled wine of the best, and plenty, in their own
gorgeous castles, but grudged poor bitter poverty its can of beer!
Shame on such a government!"

"True, true!" shouted the mob; "she is right: we are scourged and
skinned by these worthless nobles. Come, brothers, let us off to
the council-hall, and if they will not take off the tax, we'll
murder every soul of them."

<i>Illa</i>.--"And be asses for their pains. Was that all they
could do--<i>pray</i> the mighty council, forsooth, to lower the
tax? Oh, brave fellows! What! had they not the power in their own
hands, if they would only be united? Had they never heard how the
people of Anklam had, in former times, killed their rulers and
governors, and then did justice to themselves? What right had
prince, minister, or council to skin a people? They had all stout
arms and brave hearts here, as she saw; <i>could they not right
themselves?</i>--must they needs crouch for their own to prince or
minister? Did she lie, or did she speak the truth?"

Here the mob cheered and shouted, "True! true!" and they struck
the table till the glasses broke, roaring, "She is right,
brothers. Are we not strong? Can we not right ourselves? Why
should we go begging to a council? May the devil take all the
covetous, rich knaves, who drink the people's blood!"

<i>Illa</i>.--"But may be they wanted a prince--eh? The prince was
the shepherd, the council only the dog who bit the sheep as his
master commanded. Eh, children? is not a prince a fine thing, to
squeeze the sweat and life-blood out of ye, and turn it into gold
for himself? For what are his riches but your sweat and blood, if
ye reflect on it; and is it a sin to take your own? Methinks if
all princes were killed or banished, and their goods divided
amongst the people, ye would all have enough. Have ye not heard of
that brotherhood who set all princes and governments at defiance
for two hundred years, and lived like brothers amongst themselves,
dividing all goods alike, so that they were called Like-dealers;
and no beggar was found amongst them, for they had all things in
common. [Footnote: These Like-dealers were the communists of the
Middle Ages, and were for a number of years the plague of the
northern seas; until at the beginning of the fifteenth century
they were subdued, and many of them captured by the Dutch, who
nailed them up in barrels, leaving an aperture for the head, at
top, and then decapitated them. The best account of them is found
in "Raumer's Historical Note-book," vol. ii. p. 19. And if any one
wishes to see the result of communist teaching, they have only to
study here the horrible excesses to which it leads.

The communism of the apostolic age might have been suited to a
period in which it would be difficult to say whether faith or love
predominated most; but even then it by no means prevented the
existence of extreme poverty, for we read frequently in the Acts
and Epistles of the <i>collections</i> made for the Christian
churches. But in our faithless, loveless, selfish, sin-drowned
century, such an attempt at community of goods would not only
annihilate all morality completely, but absolutely degrade us back
from civilisation and modern Catholicism into the rudest and most
meagre barbarism. The apostles of such doctrines now must speak,
though perhaps unconsciously, from the sole inspiration of Satan,
like Sidonia. The progress of humanity is not to be furthered by
such means. Let our merchants no longer degrade human beings into
machines for their factories, nor our princes degrade them into
automaton puppets for their armies, but of men make <i>living
men</i>. And the strong energy, the stern will, the vital
spiritual power that will thus be awakened, will and must produce
the regeneration of humanity.] Wherefore can ye not be
Like-dealers also? Are there not rich enough for ye to kill? And
if ye are united, who can withstand you? Look at the dog and the
cattle--how the poor stupid beasts let themselves be driven, and
bit, and beaten, just because they are used to it; but, lo! if the
cattle should all turn their horns against the dog and the
shepherd, what becomes of my fine pair? So is it with the Prince
and his council. Oh, if ye were only united! Fling off the parsons
too, for they are prime movers of all your misery. Do they not
teach you, and teach you from your youth up, that ye must have
princes and priests? Eh, brothers, where is that written in the
Scriptures?

"Doth not St. Peter say (1st Epistle, chap, ii.), 'Ye are a royal
priesthood'? What then! if ye are kings, princes, and priests
yourselves, must ye needs pay for other kings, princes, and
priests? Can ye not govern yourselves? can ye not pray for
yourselves? In my opinion, yes! Doth not the same St. Peter
likewise call ye 'a chosen people,' 'a people of inheritance;'
but, I pray you, where is your inheritance?--poor beggars as ye
are--to whom neither priest nor prince will give one can of beer.
Ha! go, I tell you--take back your kingship, your priesthood, your
inheritance. Become Like-dealers, brothers, even as the early
Christians, who had all things in common, before the greed of
priest or prince had robbed them of all. Like-dealers!
Like-dealers! run, run--kill, slay, strike all dead, and never
rest until ye drown the last priest in the blood of the last
prince!"

As the hag thus spoke, through the horrible inspiration of Satan,
the passions of the mob rose to frenzy, and they rushed out and
joined the bands in the streets, and the crowds that poured from
every door; and as they repeated her words from one to the other
the frenzy spread (for they were like oil to fire). But the hag
with the black plaster on her nose, when she saw herself left
alone in the chamber, looked out after them, and laughed, and
danced, and clapped her hands.

Now the Prince and court had withdrawn to Colbatz for safety, and
a council was summoned in all haste and anxiety. The water-gate
was barred likewise, to prevent a junction with the people of
Lastadie and Wiek, but the townspeople, who had gathered in
immense crowds, broke it in, and joining with the others,
proceeded to storm the council-hall, where the honourable council
were then sitting. They shouted, roared, menaced, and seizing the
clerk, Claude Lorenz, in the chamber, murdered him before the very
eyes of the burgomasters, and flung the body out of the window;
then rushing down the steps again, proceeded along the
corn-market, and by the high street into the horse-market, where
they sacked three breweries from the roof to the cellar; and
dragging out the barrels, staved in the bottom, and drank out of
their hats and caps, shouting, roaring, singing, and dancing,
while they swilled the good beer; so that the sight was a scandal
to God and man.

And the uproar waxed stronger and stronger throughout that whole
night. Not a word of remonstrance or expostulation will the people
listen to; they threaten to hang up the messengers of the
honourable council, and show no respect even to a mandate from his
Highness, under his own seal and hand, which a horseman brings
them. They laugh, mock, fling it into the gutter, sack more
breweries, and by ten of the clock, just as the citizens are going
to church, they number ten bands strong.

So my worthy father-in-law, Dr. Cramer, with the dean and
archdeacon of St Mary's, stood upon the steps at the church-door
as the bells rung, and the mob rushed by to sack more breweries.
And he spoke friendly to the rioters--"They should stop and hear
what the Word of God said about the uproar at Ephesus (Acts
xix.)."

And some would, and some would not. What did they want with
parsons? Strike all the parsons dead. They could play the priest
for themselves, and forgive their own sins. Yet many went in, for
it was the custom to attend the weekly preaching, and my worthy
father-in-law, turning round, addressed them from the nave of the
church--me-thinks they needed it!

One very beautiful comparison that he employed made a great
impression, and brought many to reason. For he spoke of the bees,
how, when they wander too far from the hive, they can be brought
back by soft, sweet melody, and so might this wild and wandering
human swarm be brought back to the true hive by the soft and
thrilling melody of God's holy Word. Then for conclusion he read
the princely mandate from the altar; but at this the uproar
recommenced, and they ran shouting and screaming out of the
church, and to their wild work again, staving in the barrels and
drinking the beer; and they insulted a magistrate that spoke
mildly to them, and said if they would be quiet, he would try and
have the tax removed. So they raged like the bands of Korah and
Abiram; wanted to kill every one, all the rich, and divide their
goods; for their riches were their blood and sweat. They would
drag the four guilds to the council-hall, and the chief
burgomasters, and hang them all up, and afterwards the honourable
council, and all the priests, &c. So passed the first and second
day.

On the third morning by six of the clock, his Highness Duke
Philip, with all his suite, drove in six coaches from Colbatz up
to the Oderstrasse, galloping into the middle of the crowd of
noisy, drunken rioters, who thronged the grass-market as thick as
bees in a swarm.

He wished to pass on quickly to the castle, but could not, so he
had to see and hear for himself how the insurrection raged, and
the mob surrounded the coach of his Highness with loud cries, in
which nothing could be heard distinctly, but on one side "Kill
him!" and on the other, "Let him go!" This made Bishop Francis
wild with anger, and he wanted to jump out of the coach and beat
back the people, but Duke Philip gently restrained him. "See you
not," he said, "the people are sick? Hot words will increase their
sickness." Then he motioned to Mag. Reutzio, the court chaplain,
who sat in the coach, to admonish the crowd.

But the moment the reverend M. Reutzio put his head out of the
window to address them, the people shouted, "Down with the parson!
what is he babbling for. Dr. Cramer told us all that yesterday. We
want no parsons; kill them! kill them! Down with priests! down
with princes!" And they sprang upon the horses to cut the traces,
but the coachman and outriders slashed away right and left with
their horsewhips, so that the mob recoiled; and then with loud
shouts of "Make way! make way!" the coachman lashed his horses
forward into a gallop.

But behold, as they crossed the Shoe-strasse, a coarse, thick-set
woman knelt by the kennel with her daughter, a half-grown girl,
and they were drinking beer from a barrel like calves. This same
woman was knocked down by the foremost horse, so that she fell
into the gutter. Hereat she roared and cursed his princely Grace,
and flung the beer-can at him, but it fell upon the horse, who
grew wild, and dashed off in a mad gallop across the Shoe-strasse
into the Pelzerstrasse, and up to the castle without pausing,
where a large crowd had already collected.

If the sovereign people had been wild before, they were ten times
more wild now, and ran to try and get into the castle after his
Highness; but the Duke ordered the gates to be closed. He, finding
that the courts and corridors were already filled with the members
of the venerable council, and three hundred of the militia, bade
the men stand to their arms, load the heavy artillery, and erect
the blood-standard on the tower, while he and the princes, with
the honourable members, considered what could best be done in this
grave and dangerous crisis. Whereupon he bade the council attend
him in the state banqueting-hall.

Now the honourable council declared they were ready to part life
and limb for their liege lord and the illustrious house of
Pomerania, according to the terms of their oath; but the burghers
would not. For when Duke Philip asked, would not the burghers go
forth, and help to disperse this armed and unruly mob, the militia
made sundry objections, and set forth numerous difficulties.
Whereupon Bishop Francis started up, and exclaimed, "Brother, I
pray thee, do not stoop to conciliate the people! If ye know not
how to die, I can go forth and die for all--since it has come to
this." And he rose to depart.

But his Highness seized him by the hand, and entreated patience
yet for one hour more. Then he turned to the militia, and again
admonished them of their duty, and bid them remember the oath; but
they answered sharply, "Why the devil should we go forth and shoot
our brothers, neighbours, and friends? They are more to us than
all." <i>Item</i>, they recapitulated their objections and
difficulties.

Hereupon his Highness exclaimed, "Alas! how comes it that my good
people of Stettin are so unruly? If the Stralsunders indeed had
risen, I would say nothing, but my dear Stettiners, who have ever
been so true and loyal, holding to their province through all
adversities, and now--ah! that I should live to see this day!"

Then Bishop Francis spake--"Truly, our good Stettiners are to be
known no longer. Were it possible to bewitch a whole people, I
would say this witch-devil of Marienfliess had done it. For in all
Pomeranian land was it ever heard that the people refused
obedience to their Prince as the burgher militia here have dared
to refuse this day?"

Just then the evil tidings arrived that the mob were sacking the
house of one of the chiefs of the council, whereupon his Highness
Duke Philip called out again, "Will ye stand by me or not? Here is
no time for hesitation, but action. Will ye follow me? Speak,
lieges!"

Hereat a couple of hundred voices responded "Yes, yes;" but the
"yes" fell as dull and cold upon the ear as the clang of a leaden
bell.

However, Bishop Francis instantly exclaimed, "Good! Go then, all
of ye, to the armoury, and arm yourselves with speed. Meanwhile I
shall see to the loading of the cannon in the castle court. Then
whosoever among you is for God and the Prince, follow me to
victory or death."

But Duke Philip interposed. "Not so, dear brother; not so, my good
lieges; let us try first what reconciliation will do, for they are
my erring children."

And though Duke Francis was sore displeased and impatient, yet my
gracious Prince despatched his chief equerry, Andreas Ehlers, as
herald to the people, dressed in complete armour, and with a drawn
sword in his hand, accompanied by three trumpeters, to read a new
princely proclamation to the people.

So the herald rode first to the grass-market, and when the trumpet
sounded, the people stood still and listened, whereupon he read
the following proclamation, in a loud voice:--

"The Serene and Illustrious Prince and Lord, Lord Philip, Duke of
Stettin, Pomerania, Cassuben, and Wenden, Prince of Rugen, Count
of Gutzkow, and Lord of the lands of Lauenburg and Butow, our
gracious Prince, Seigneur, and Lord, hereby commandeth all
present, from Lastadie, Wiek, Dragern, and other places assembled,
to lay down their arms, and retire each man to his own home in
peace and quietness, without offering further molestation to his
loyal lieges, burghers, and citizens, on pain of severe punishment
in person and life, and deprivation of all wonted privileges.
Further, if they have aught of complaint against the honourable
council or burgesses, let them bring the same before his Highness
himself. Meanwhile the quart of beer, until further orders, shall
be reduced to its original price, as agreed on yesterday in
council, and be sold henceforth for one Stralsund shilling.

"Signatum, Old Stettin, the 18th July, 1616.

"PHILIPPUS, <i>manu sua</i>."

When the herald had finished reading, and shown the princely
signature and seal to the ringleaders, a great murmur arose among
the crowd, of which, however, the herald took no heed, but rode on
to the horse-market, where he likewise read the proclamation, and
so on through the principal thorough-fares. Then he returned to
the grass-market, but lo! not a soul was to be seen; the crowds
had all dispersed, and quietness reigned everywhere. Whereupon the
herald rode joyfully to the horse-market, to see if the like had
happened there, and truly peace had returned here too. And all
along the principal streets where the proclamation had been read,
the people were thoroughly subdued by this princely clemency and
authority.

So when the herald returned to the castle, and related the success
of his mission, the tears filled the eyes of his Grace Duke
Philip, and taking his lord brother by the hand, he exclaimed,
"See, dear Francis, how true are the words of Cicero, '<i>Nihil
tam populare quam bonitas</i>.'" [Footnote: (Nothing so popular as
kindness.)] Then they both went forth and walked arm in arm
throughout the town, and wherever his Grace saw any group still
gathered round the beercans, he told them to be content, for the
beer should be sold to them at the Stralsund shilling. And thus
the riot was quelled, and the town returned to its accustomed
quietness and order.

Now truly the same Cicero says, "<i>In imperita muititudine est
varietas et inconstantia et crebra tanquam tempestatum, sic
sententiarum commutatio</i>." [Footnote: (The senseless multitude
are changeful and inconstant as the weather, and their opinions
suffer as many mutations.)]




CHAPTER X.

<i>Of the fearful events that take place at Marienfliess--Item,
bow Dorothea Stettin becomes possessed by the devil.</i>


Meanwhile Satan hath not been less busy at Marienfliess in
Sidonia's absence, than at Old Stettin in her presence. But he
cunningly changed his mode of action, not to be recognised, and
truly Dorothea Stettin was the first he practised on. For having
recovered from her sickness, she one day presented herself at
church in the nun's choir as usual; but while joining in the
closing hymn, she suddenly changed colour, began to sob and
tremble in every limb, then continued the chant in a strange,
uncertain voice, sometimes treble, sometimes bass, like that of a
lad whose beard is just beginning to grow. At this the abbess and
the sisterhood listened and stared in wonder, then asked if the
dear sister had fallen ill again?

"No," she answered gruffly, "she only wanted to be married. She
was tired of playing the virgin. Did the abbess know, perchance,
of any one who would suit her as bridegroom? For she must and
would be married!"

Think now of the horror of the nuns. Still they thanked God that
such a <i>scandalum</i> had happened during the singing, and not
at the blessed sermon. Then they seized her by the arms, and drew
her away to her cell. But woe, alas! scarcely had she reached it,
when she threw herself upon her bed in strong convulsions. Her
eyes turned so that only the whites were to be seen, and her face
grew so drawn and strange that it was a grief to look upon it, and
still she kept on screaming in the deep, gruff man's voice--"For a
bridegroom! a bridegroom!" she that was so modest, and had such a
delicate, gentle voice. Whereupon all the sisters rushed in to
hear her the moment the sermon was over; <i>item</i>, the priest
in his surplice.

But the unfortunate maiden no sooner beheld him, than she cried
out in the deep bass voice--"David, I must marry; wilt thou be my
bridegroom?" And when he answered, "Alas, poor girl! when was such
speech ever heard from you before? Satan himself must have
possessed you!" she cried out again, "Hold your chatter--will you,
or will you not?"

"How can I take you?" replied the priest; "you know well that I
have a wife already." Whereupon the gruff bass voice answered,
with mocking laughter, "Ha! ha! ha! what matter for that? Take
more wives!"

Here some of the young novices laughed, but others who had never
wept <i>bis dato</i>, now broke out in violent weeping, and the
abbess exclaimed, "Oh, merciful God! who hath ever heard the like
from this our chaste sister, whom we have known from her youth up?
Oh! deliver her from this wicked devil who reigns in her soul and
members!"

But at the mention of the holy name, the evil one raged more
furiously than ever within her. He tore her, so that she foamed at
the mouth, and--ah! woe is me that I must speak it--uttered coarse
and shameful words, such as the most shameless groom or jack-boy
would scarce pronounce.

These sent all the novices flying and screaming away; but the
abbess remained, with some of the nuns, also the priest, who
prepared now to exorcise the devil with the most powerful
conjurations. Yet ere he began, a strange thing happened; for the
possessed maiden became suddenly quite still, all her members
relaxed, and her eyes closed heavily as if in sleep. But it was
not so, for she then began, in her own soft, natural voice, to
chant a hymn in Dutch, although they all knew she never had
learned one word of that language. The words were these:--

"Oh, chaste Jesu! all whose being
Was so lovely to our seeing,
Thoughts and speech, and soul and senses,
Filled with noblest evidences.

Oh! the God that dwelt in Thee,
In His sinless purity!
Oh, Christ Immanuel,
Save me from the sinner's hell!

Make my soul, with power divine,
Chaste and holy, ev'n as Thine!"

Then she added in her own tongue--"Ah! ye must pray much before
this devil is cast out of me. But still pray, pray diligently, and
it will be done.

"Guard, Lord Christ, our deepest slumber,
Evil thoughts may come in dreams;
And the senses list the murmur,
Though the frail form sleeping seems.

Oh! if Thy hand do not keep us,
Even in sleep, from passion's flame,
Though our eyes close on temptation,
We may fall to sin and shame!
Amen."

"Yes, yes, oh, pray for me; be not weary, her judgment is
pronounced."

"What mean you?" spake the abbess, "whose judgment hath been
pronounced?"

<i>Illa</i>.--"Know you not, then? Sidonia's."

<i>Haec</i>.--"How could she have bewitched you? She is far from
here."

<i>Illa</i>.--"Spirits know no distance."

<i>Haec</i>.--"How then hath she done this?"

<i>Illa</i>.--"Her spirit Chim summoned another spirit last
evening, who entered into me as I gasped for air, after that
strife between you and your maid, for I was shocked to hear this
faithful creature called a thief."

<i>Haec</i>.--"And is she not a thief?"

<i>Illa</i>.--"In no wise. She is as innocent as a new-born
child."

<i>Haec</i>.--"But there was no one else in the chamber when I laid
down my purse, and when she went away it was gone."

<i>Illa</i>.--"Ah! your dog Watcher was there, and the purse was
made of calf's skin, greased with your hands, for you had been
rolling butter; so the dog swallowed it, having got no dinner.
Kill the dog, therefore, and you will find your purse."

<i>Haec</i>.--"For the love of Heaven! how know you aught of my
rolling butter?"

<i>Illa</i>.--"A beautiful form like an angel sits at my head, and
whispers all to me."

<i>Haec</i>.--"That must be the devil, who has gone out of thee,
for fear of the priest."

<i>Illa</i>.--"Oh, no! He sits under my liver. See!--there is the
angel again! Ha! how terribly his eyes are flashing!"

<i>Haec</i>.--"Canst thou see, then? Thine eyes are close shut"
(opening Dorothea's eyes by force, but the pupil is not to be
seen, only the white).

<i>Illa</i>.--"I see, but not through the eyes--through the
stomach."

<i>Haec</i>.--"What? Thou canst see through the stomach?"

<i>Illa</i>.--"Ay, truly! I can see everything: there is Anna
Apenborg peeping under the bed; now she lets the quilt drop in
fright. Is it not so?"

The abbess clasps her hands together, looks at the priest in
astonishment, and cries, "For the love of God, tell me what does
all this betoken?"

To which the priest answers, "My reason is overwhelmed here, and I
might almost believe what the ancients pretended, and Cornelius
Agrippa also maintained, that two <i>daemones</i> or spirits attend
each man from infancy to the grave; and that each spirit strives
to blend himself with the mortal, and make the human being like
unto himself, whether it be for good or evil. [Footnote: Cornelius
Agrippa, of the noble race of Nettersheim, natural philosopher,
jurist, physician, soldier, necromancer, and professor of the
black art--in fine, learned in all natural and supernatural
wisdom, closed his restless life at Grenoble, 1535. His principal
work, from which the above is quoted (cap. xx.), is entitled <i>De
Occulta Philosophia</i>. That Socrates had an attendant spirit or
demon from his youth up, whose suggestions he followed as an
oracle, is known to us from the <i>Theages</i> of Plato. But of
the nature of this genius, spirit, or voice, we have no certain
indications from the ancients, though the subject has been much
investigated in numerous writings, beginning with the monographs
of Apulejus and Plutarch. The first (Apulejus), <i>De Deo
Socratis</i>, makes the strange assertion, that it was a common
thing with the Pythagoreans to have such a spirit; so much so,
that if any among them declared he had <i>not</i> one, it was
deemed strange and singular.]

"However, I esteem this apparition to be truly Satan, who has
changed himself into an angel of light to deceive more easily, as
is his wont; therefore, as this our poor sister hath also a
prophesying spirit, like that maiden mentioned, Acts xvi. 16, let
us do even as St. Paul, and conjure it to leave her. But first, it
would be advisable to see if she hath spoken truth respecting the
dog."

So my dog was killed, and there in truth was the purse of gold
found in his stomach, to the wonderment of all, and the great joy
of the poor damsel who had been accused of stealing it.
Immediately after, the poor possessed one turned herself on the
couch, sighed, opened her eyes, and asked, "Where am I?" for she
knew nothing at all of what she had uttered during her sleep, and
only complained of a weakness through her entire frame. [Footnote:
That poor Dorothea was in the somnambulistic state (according to
our phraseology) is evident. A similar instance in which the
demoniac passed over into the magnetic state is given by Kerner,
"History of Possession," p. 73. I must just remark here, that
Kieser ("System of Tellurism") is probably in error when he
asserts, from the attitudes discovered amongst some of the
Egyptian hieroglyphics, that the ancients were acquainted with the
mode of producing the magnetic state by manipulation or passes,
for Jamblicbus enumerates all the modes known to the ancients of
producing the divining crisis, in his book <i>De Mysteriis
AEgyptorium</i>, in the chapter, <i>Insperatas vacat ab actione
propria</i>, page 58, and never mentions manipulation amongst
them, of which mode, indeed, Mesmer seems to have been the
original discoverer. The ancients, too, were aware (as we are)
that the magnetic and divining state can be produced only in young
and somewhat simple (<i>simpliciores</i>) persons. Porphyry
confirms this in his remarkable letter to the Egyptian priest of
Anubis (to which I earnestly direct the physiologists), in which
he asks, "Wherefore it happens that only simple (<i>aplontxronz
kai nxonz</i>) and young persons were fitted for divination?" Yet
there were many even then, as we learn from Jamblich and the later
Psellus, who maintained the modern rationalistic view, that all
these phenomena were produced only by a certain condition of our
own spiritual and bodily nature; although all somnambulists affirm
the contrary, and declare they are the result of external
<i>spiritual</i> influences working upon them.] After this, the
evil spirit left her in peace for two days, and every one hoped
that he had gone out of her; but on the third day he began to rage
within the unfortunate maiden worse than ever, so that they had to
send quickly for the priest to exorcise him. But behold, as he
entered in his surplice, and uttered the salutation, "The peace of
our Lord Jesus Christ be upon this maid," the evil spirit with the
man's coarse voice cried out of poor Dorothea's mouth--

"Come here, parson, I'll soon settle for you."

Then it cursed, swore, and blasphemed God, and raged within the
poor maiden, so that the foam gathered on her pale lips. But the
reverend David is not to be frightened from his duty by the foul
fiend. He kneeled down first, with all present, and prayed
earnestly to God; then endeavoured to make the possessed maiden
repeat the Lord's Prayer and the Creed after him; but the devil
would not let her. He raged, roared, laughed scornfully, and
abused the priest with such unseemly words that it was a grief and
horror to hear them.

"Wait, parson," it screamed, "in three days thou shalt be as I am.
(Namely, a spirit; though no one knew then what the devil meant.)
I will make thee pay for this, because thou tormentest me."

But neither menaces nor blasphemies could deter the good priest.
He lifted his eyes to heaven, and prayed that beautiful prayer
from the Pomeranian liturgy, page 244, which he had by heart:--

"O Lord Jesu Christ, Thou Son of the living God, at whose name
every knee must bend, in heaven, upon the earth, and under the
earth; God and man; our Saviour, our brother, our Redeemer; who
hast conquered sin, and death, and hell, trod on the devil's head
and destroyed his works--Thou hast promised, Thou holy Saviour,
'that whatever we ask the Father in Thy name, Thou wilt grant unto
us.' Therefore, by that holy promise, we pray Thee, Lord Christ,
to look with pity upon this our sister, who hath been baptized in
Thy holy name, redeemed by Thy precious blood, washed from all
sin, anointed by Thy Holy Spirit, and made one with Thee, a member
of the living temple of Thy body. Relieve her from the tyranny and
power of the devil; graciously cast out this unclean spirit, that
so Thy holy name may be praised and glorified, for ever and ever.
Amen."

Then he laid his hand upon the sick maiden's head, while the
hellish fiend raged and roared more furiously than ever, so that
all present were seized with trembling, and exclaimed--

"In the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, and in the strength of the
Lord Jesus Christ, and in the power of the Lord Jesus Christ, I
bid, desire, and command thee, thou unclean spirit, to come forth,
and give place to the Holy Spirit of God! Amen."

Whereupon the convulsions ceased in the sick maiden's limbs, and
she sank down gently on her bed, as a sail falls when the cords
are loosed and the wind ceases; and thus she lay for a long time
quite still.

After which, she said in her own natural voice--

"Now I see him no more!"

"Who is it that you see no more?" asked the abbess.

<i>Illa</i>.--"The evil spirit, my angel says. He has gone forth
from me. Woe, woe, alas!"

<i>Haec</i>.--"Why dost thou cry, alas, when he has in truth gone
out from thee?"

<i>Illa.--"My angel says, he will first strangle the priest who
has cast him forth, then will he return, as it is written in the
Scripture (Matt. xi. 24), 'After three days I will return to my
house from which I had gone forth.' Ah, look! the good priest is
growing pale. But let him be comforted, for he shall have his
reward in heaven, as the Lord saith (Matt, v.)."

<i>Haec</i>.--"But why does the great God permit such power to the
devil, if what thou sayest be true?"

<i>Illa</i> is silent.

<i>Haec</i>.--"Thou art silent; what says thy angel?"

<i>Illa</i>.--"He is silent also--now he speaks again."

<i>Haec</i>.--"What says he then?"

<i>Illa</i>.--"The wisdom of God is silent."

The abbess repeats the words, while the priest falls back against
the wall, as white as chalk, and exclaims--

"Your angel is right. I feel as if a mouse were running up and
down through my body. Alas! now the bones of my chest are
breaking. Farewell, dear sisters; in heaven we shall meet again.
Farewell; pray for me. I go to lay my head upon my death-pillow."

And he was scarcely gone out at the door when a great cry and
weeping arose amongst the sisters present, and the abbess asked,
weeping likewise--

"Is this, too, Sidonia's work?"

<i>Illa</i>.--"Whose else? She hath never forgiven him because he
rejected her love, and hath only delayed his death to a fitting
opportunity."

<i>Haec</i>.--"Merciful God! and will this murderous nun be brought
to judgment?"

<i>Illa</i>.--"Yes, when her hour comes, she will be burned and
beheaded--not many years after this."

<i>Haec</i>.--"And what will become of you? Will you die, if Satan
often takes up his dwelling-place in your heart?"

<i>Illa</i>.--"If you do not prevent him, I shall die; if he leave
me, I shall grow well."

<i>Haec</i>.--"What can we, miserable mortals, do to prevent him?"

<i>Illa</i>.--"Jobst Bork of Saatzig has three rings, which the
spirits made, and gave to his grandmother in Pansin. <i>Item</i>,
he has also a beautiful daughter called Diliana, and as no second
on earth bears her name, [Footnote: In fact, I have nowhere else
met with the name "Diliana," whereas that of "Sidonia" is by no
means uncommon. Virgil calls Dido "Sidonia" (AEn. i, v. 446), with
somewhat of poetic license, for she was not born in Sidon but in
Tyre. About the time of the Reformation this name became very
common in the regal houses. For example, King George of Bohemia,
Duke Henry of Saxony, Duke Franz of Westphalia, and others, had
daughters called "Sidonia." For this reason, therefore, the proud
knight of Stramehl probably gave the same name to his daughter. In
the Middle Ages I find only one Sidonia or Sittavia, the spouse of
Count Manfred of Xingelheim, who built the town of Zittau, and
died in the year 1021.] so is there no other who equals her in
goodness, piety, humility, chastity, and courage. If this Diliana
lays one of the rings on my stomach, in the name of God, the devil
can no more enter in me, and I shall be healed. But what do I
see?--there she comes herself."

<i>Haec</i>.--"Who comes?"

<i>Illa</i>.--"Diliana. She has run away from her father, and will
offer herself as servant to Sidonia, because old Wolde is sick."

<i>Haec</i>.--"She must be foolish then, if this be true."

<i>Illa</i>.--"Ay, she is foolish, but it is from pure love, which
indeed is a godlike folly; for Sidonia hath bewitched her poor
father, and he grows worse and worse, and her prayers to the
sorceress are of no avail to help him, so she hath privately left
her father's castle, to offer herself as servant to Sidonia; for
no wench, far or near, will be found who will take old Wolde's
place, and she hopes, in return for this, that the sorceress will
give her something from her herbal to cure her old father. Ha!
what do I see? How her beautiful hair streams behind her upon the
wind! How she runs like a deer over the heather, and looks back
often, for her heart is trembling lest her father might send after
her. Now she enters the wood; see, she kneels down, and prays for
her father and for herself, that God will keep her steps. Let us
pray also, dear sisters, for her, for the poor priest, and for the
unfortunate maiden."

Whereupon they all fell upon their knees, and the possessed virgin
offered up so beautiful a prayer that none had ever heard the like
before, and every face was bedewed with tears. After which she
awoke, and, as the first time, remembered nothing whatever of what
had passed, or of what she had uttered.




CHAPTER XI.

<i>Of the arrival of Diliana and the death of the convent
priest--Item, how the unfortunate corpse is torn by a wolf</i>.


Scarcely had the abbess returned to her apartment when Diliana
sprang in, with flowing hair, and her beautiful, blooming face
looking like a rose sprinkled with morning dew. So the worthy
matron screamed first with wonder that all should be true, then
taking the lovely young maiden in her arms, pressed her to her
heart, and asked--

"Wherefore comest thou here, my beloved Diliana?"

<i>Illa</i>.--"I have run away from my father, good mother, and
will serve my cousin Sidonia Bork as her waiting-maid, hoping that
in return she will give him something out of her herbal to heal
his poor frame, which is distracted day and night with pain, even
as she healed you and Sheriff Sparling; and she will do this, I am
sure, because I hear that her maid, Anne Wolde, is sick, and no
one in all the country round will take service with her, they
say."

<i>Haec</i>.--"Poor child, thou knowest not what thou dost. She
will slay thee, or ill-treat thee in her wickedness, or may be
bring some worse evil than either on thee."

<i>Illa</i>.--"And I will do as the Lord commanded--if she strike
me on one cheek, I will turn to her the other also, whereby she
will be softened, and consent to help my poor father."

<i>Haec</i>.--"She will help him in nothing, and then how wilt
thou bear the disgrace of servitude?"

<i>Illa</i>.--"Disgrace? If the soul suffer not disgrace, the
body, methinks, can suffer it never."

<i>Haec</i>.--"But how canst thou do the duties of a serving-wench?
Thou, brought up the lady of a castle!"

<i>Illa</i>.--"I have learned everything privately from Lisette;
trust me, I can feed the pigs and sheep, milk the cow, and wash
the dishes, &c."

<i>Haec</i>.--"But what put it into thy head, child, to serve her
as a maid?"

<i>Illa</i>.--"When I last entreated my cousin Sidonia to help my
poor father, she said, 'Get me a good maid who will do my business
well, and then I shall see what can be done to help him. Now, as
no one will take service with her, what else can I do, but play
the trencher-woman myself, and thus save my poor father's life?"

<i>Haec</i>.--"Thou hast saved it once before, as I have heard."

<i>Illa</i> is silent.

<i>Haec</i>.--"How was it? Tell me, that I may see if they told me
the story truly."

<i>Illa</i>.--"Ah, good mother, speak no more of it. It was as you
have heard, no doubt."

<i>Haec</i>.--"People say that a horse threw your father, dragged
him along, and attempted to kick him, upon which, while all the
men-folk stood and gaped, you flew like the wind, seized the
bridle of the animal, and held him fast till your father was up
again."

<i>Illa</i>.--"Well, mother, there was nothing very wonderful in
that."

<i>Haec</i>.--"Also, they tell that one day at the hunt you came
upon a part of the wood where two robbers were beating a noble
almost to death, after having plundered him. You sprang forward,
menaced them, and finally made them take to their heels, after
which you helped the poor wounded man upon your own palfrey, like
a good Samaritan indeed, and without thought of the danger or
fatigue, walked beside him, leading the horse by the bridle until
clear out of the wood, and thus----"

<i>Illa</i>.--"Ah, good mother, do not make me more red than I am;
for know, the poor wounded noble thought so much of what I had
done, that he must needs ask me for his bride, though truly I
would have done the like for a beggar."

<i>Haec</i>.--"Then it was George Putkammer, and thou wilt not have
him?"

<i>Illa</i>.--"I may say with Sara (Tobias iii.), 'Thou knowest,
Lord, that I have desired no man, and have kept my soul pure from
all evil lusts;' but indeed to save my father's life is more to me
than a bridegroom. A bridegroom may be offered many times in life
to a young thing like me, but a father comes never again."

<i>Haec</i>.--"God grant that thou mayest save him, but never tell
thy cousin Sidonia of George Putkammer's love, else, methinks, it
will be all over with thee."

<i>Illa</i>.--"But if she ask me, I cannot lie unto her----"

Just then the cry was heard, "The priest is dying;" whereupon the
abbess, Diliana, indeed the whole convent, rushed out to visit him
at the glebe-house. The priest, however, was dead when they
arrived, and his corpse had the same signature of Satan as the
others who died before him, save only that his right hand was
uplifted, and had stiffened into the same position in which he
held it when he exorcised the evil spirit out of Dorothea.

So they all stood around pale and trembling, while they listened
to his poor widow telling how his breast-bone rose up higher and
higher, until at length he died in horrible agony.

But behold, the door flies open, and Sidonia, who had just
returned from her long journey, enters, with her long black habit
trailing after her through the chamber. Whereupon they all become
dumb with horror and disgust, and stand there like so many marble
or enchanted figures.

"Ah, what is this I hear," exclaimed the accursed sorceress, "just
on my return home? Is the worthy and upright man really dead? Woe!
alas, that I could have saved him from this! How did it happen?
Thank God that I was not here at the time, or the wicked world,
which lays all manner of crimes upon me falsely, might have
accused me of this likewise. Yes, I thank God a thousand times
that I was absent! Speak, poor Barbara! how did it happen that
your dear spouse fell so suddenly ill?"

But the poor wife only trembled, and sank powerless against the
bed where the corpse of her husband lay stretched; for when
Sidonia advanced close to it, the red blood oozed from the mouth
of the dead man, as if to accuse his murderess before God and man.

And no one could speak a word, not even a sob was heard in answer
to her questions; whereupon the sorceress spake again--

"Alas, what is all this which has happened in my absence! Good
Dorothea, they tell me, is possessed by a devil; but, at least,
people can see now that I am as innocent as a new-born infant;
though, assuredly, some terrible sinner must be lurking amongst
us, though we know it not, or all this judgment would not come
upon the convent. I would not willingly condemn any Christian
soul; but, if I err not, the old dairy-woman is the person!"

This she said from revenge, because the woman had refused to give
her seven cheeses for a florin, when she was on her way to
Stettin. Of the misfortunes which grew out of these same cheeses
for the poor dairy-woman, we shall hear more in due time.

At this horrible hypocrisy and falsehood the abbess could no
longer hold her peace, and cried, "In my opinion, sister, you err
much; the old dairy-mother is a pious and honest woman, as all the
convent can testify, and attended diligently on our dead pastor
here to be catechised."

<i>Illa</i>.--"Who then, else? It was incomprehensible. A thousand
times thank God that she had been away during it all. Now they
must hold their tongues, they who had blackened her to the Prince;
but his Grace had done her justice, and dismissed her honourably
from the trial at Stettin."

<i>Haec</i>.--"I have a different version of the story; for his
Highness has commanded you to resign the sub-prioret to Dorothea
Stettin forthwith--<i>item</i>, you are to be kept close within
the convent walls, for which purpose I shall order the great
padlock to be placed again upon the gates. Thus his Grace
commands; and as we have a chapter assembled here already, I may
announce the resolve with all due form."

<i>Illa</i>.--"What! you tell me this, in the presence of the
priest's wife and your serving-wenches? Do they belong to the
chapter of noble virgins? I shall forward a <i>protocollum</i> to
his Highness, setting forth all that has happened in my absence,
and get all the sisterhood to sign it, that the Duke may know what
kind of folk the abbess summons to her chapter; but as touching
the sub-prioret, it is well known to you all how it was forced
upon me by Dorothea, as I fully explained to the princes in
council. However, speak, sisters; if ye indeed wish this light,
silly creature, this devil-possessed Dorothea Stettin, for your
sub-prioress again, take her, and welcome--I will not prevent you.
She can teach you all the shameful words which, as I hear, flow so
liberally from her lips--eh, sisters, will ye have the wanton or
not?"

And when the nuns all cried "No, no!" the accursed witch went on--

"Well, then, I bid ye all to assemble instantly in my apartment,
to testify the same to his Highness; also to bear witness of the
evil deeds done in my absence, for that the poor priest has died
no natural death, is evident; therefore his Grace, I trust, will
probe the business to the uttermost, and find out who is the evil
Satan amongst us--ay, and tear off the deceitful mask, that my
good name thereby may be justified before the Prince and the whole
world."

Diliana now stepped forward from amidst a crowd of serving-women
among whom she had concealed herself, and bowed low in salutation
to Sidonia; but the witch laughed scornfully, and cried, "What!
has your worthy father sent you to me?"

<i>Illa</i>.--"Ah, no; she came out of her own free will, to serve
her good cousin Sidonia, for she heard that no maid could be found
to hire with her, therefore she would play the serving-wench
herself, and ask no other wages but a cure from her receipt-book
for her dear father, who was daily growing worse and worse."

<i>Haec</i>.--"She required much from her maid; and on her way home
she had bought six little pigs--<i>item</i>, she had a cow, cocks
and hens, geese, and seven sheep. All these the maid must feed and
look after, besides doing all the indoor work."

<i>Illa</i>.--"She could do all that easily, for old Lisa had
instructed her in everything."

<i>Haec</i>.--"But how was it that she was not ashamed to play the
serving-wench--she, a castle and land dowered maiden, with that
illustrious name she bore?"

<i>Illa</i>.--"There was but one thing of which men need be
ashamed, and that was sin; but this was not sin."

<i>Haec</i>.--"She was very sharp with her answers. Why did she not
talk to her father, who had made her brother's son, Otto of
Stramehl, give up to him her two farm-houses in Zachow, with all
the rents appertaining; but Otto had been justly punished by the
good God, for she had just got tidings of his death."

<i>Illa</i>.--"But my father will restore you all, good cousin, as
he wrote to you himself."

<i>Haec</i>.--"Ay, the old houses, may be, he'll give back, but
will he restore the rents that have been gathering for fifty
years? No, no, he refuses the money, even as my nephew Otto
refused it (but God has struck him dead for it, as I said before).
[Footnote: He died suddenly just at this time; and Sidonia
confessed, at the eleventh torture question, that she had caused
his death, (Daehnert, p. 430.)] Oh, truly these proud knights of my
own kin and name stood bravely for me against the world! ay, I owe
them many thanks for turning me out, a poor young maiden,
unfriended and alone, till I became a world's wonder, and the
scorn of every base and lying tongue; but persecution was ever the
lot of the children of God."

<i>Illa</i>.--"Her poor father had not the gold; for five
rix-dollars a year would amount in fifty years to five hundred
rix-dollars, and such a sum her father could not command."

<i>Haec</i>.--"Yet he had enough to spend on horses, falcons,
hunting, and the like; only for her he had naught."

<i>Illa</i> (kissing her hand).--"Ah, good cousin, leave him in
peace, and help him if you can; I will serve thee as well as I am
able--my life long, if you ask it of me."

<i>Haec</i>.--"Away! thou silly, childish thing; how should the
meek Sidonia ever bear to be served by a noble lady as thou art?
If the world had not blackened me before, it might begin now in
earnest, and justly."

<i>Illa</i>.--"Ah, good, kind cousin, will you then heal my father
for nothing?"

<i>Haec</i>.--"Well, I shall see about it, if, perchance, it be
God's will."

<i>Illa</i> (kissing her hand again).--"Dear cousin, how good you
are! Now see, all of ye, what a kind cousin I have in Sidonia, who
has promised to cure my loved father" (dancing for joy like a
child).

<i>Haec</i>.--"Come, then, all present, to my apartment; thou,
Diliana, mayest draw up the <i>protocollum</i>, and better,
perhaps, than a bad notary. Come!"

So they all proceeded to the refectory, and the
<i>protocollum</i>, was drawn up and signed, and Sidonia compelled
the new convent porter to carry it off, that very night, to his
Highness at Stettin.

Meanwhile the poor widow, along with some other women, including
the old dairy-mother, prepared the poor priest's corpse for
burial, and they put on him his black Geneva gown--<i>item</i>,
black plush breeches, which his brother-in-law in Jacobshagen had
made him a present of. I note the plush breeches especially, for
what reason my readers will soon see; and because the parsonage
swarmed with rats, they had the corpse carried before nightfall
into the church, and set down close beside the altar; and by
command of the sheriff the windows were thrown open to admit fresh
air, on account of the dead body lying there.

An hour after the poor widow went into the church, to see if the
blood yet flowed from the mouth of her dear murdered husband. But
what sees she?--the corpse is lying on its face in the coffin in
place of on its back. She calls the dairy-mother in, trembling
with horror, and they turn him between them. Then they go forth,
but return in a little while again, and see, the corpse is again
turned upon its face. And no one is able to comprehend how the
corpse can turn of itself, or be turned by any one, for the widow
has one key of the church and the abbess has the other; therefore
the poor wife, simple as she is, resolves to hide herself in the
church for the night, and light the altar candles, that she might
see how it happened that the corpse turned in the coffin. And the
dairy-mother agreed to watch with her; <i>item</i>, Anna Apenborg,
who heard the story from them; <i>item</i>, Diliana, for as
Sidonia had no bed to give her, the young maiden had gone to sleep
with Anna, and there the priest's maid told them of the horrible
way her poor master's corpse had turned in the coffin. So the
weeping widow let them all watch with her gladly, for she feared
to be alone, but warned them to speak no word, lest the evil-doer,
whoever it might be, should perceive them, and keep away. There
was no man within call, either, to help them, for the porter had
gone away to Stettin; so they four, after commending themselves to
God, went secretly into the church at ten of the clock, laid the
corpse right upon its back, and lit candles round it, as the
custom is. Item, they lit the candles on the altar, and then hid
themselves in the dark confession-box, which lay close by the
altar, and from which they could see the coffin perfectly.

After waiting for an hour or more, sighing and weeping, and when
the hour-glass which they had brought with them showed it was the
twelfth hour--hark! there was a noise in the coffin that made them
all start to their feet, and at the same instant the private door
of the nuns' choir opened gently, and something came down the
steps of the gallery, step by step, on to the coffin, and the
blood now froze in their veins, for they perceived that it was a
wolf; and he laid his paws upon the corpse, and began to tear it.

At this sight the poor widow screamed aloud, whereupon the wolf
sprang back and attempted to make off, but Diliana bounded on its
track, crying, "A wolf! a wolf!" and seeing upon the altar an old
tin crucifix, which some of the workmen who had been opening the
vault had brought up from below, she seized it and pursued the
wolf out of the great gate into the churchyard, while the rest
followed screaming. And as the wolf ran fast, and made for the
graves, as if to hide itself, the daring virgin, not being able to
get near enough to strike it, flung the crucifix at the unclean
beast, when lo! the wolf suddenly disappeared, and nothing was to
be seen but Sidonia in the clear moonlight, standing trembling
beside a grave.

"Good cousin!" exclaimed Diliana in horror, "where has the wolf
gone? we were pursuing a wolf." Upon which the horrible and
accursed night-raven recovered herself quickly, and pointing with
her finger to the crucifix which lay upon the ground, said with a
tone of mingled scorn and anger, "There, thou stupid fool! he sank
beneath that cross!"

The poor innocent child believed her, and ran forward to pick up
the crucifix, looking in every direction around for the wolf; but
the others, who were wiser, saw full well that the wolf had been
none other than Sidonia herself, for her lips were bloody, and
round them, like a beard, were sticking small black threads, which
were indeed from the black silk hose of the poor corpse. And when
they looked at her horrible mouth they trembled, but were silent
from fear; all except the inquisitive Anna Apenborg, who asked,
"Dear sister, what makes you here at midnight in the churchyard?"

Here the horrible witch-demon mastered her anger, and answered in
a melancholy, plaintive tone, "Ah, good sister Anna! I had a
miserable toothache, so that I could not sleep, and I just crept
down here into the fresh air, thinking it might do me good. But
what are you all doing here by night in the churchyard?"

No one replied; indeed, she seemed not to care for an answer, but
put up her kerchief to her horrible and traitorous mouth, and
turned away whimpering. The others, however, went back to the
church, where the corpse truly lay upon its back as they had left
it, but the hose were rent at the knee, and the flesh torn and
bloody.

How can I tell now of the poor widow's screams and tears?

<i>Summa</i>.--The corpse was buried the next day, and as no man
had been a witness of the night-scene, only the weeping women, no
one would believe their strange story, neither on the last trial
would the judges even credit so wild a tale as that Sidonia could
change herself into a wolf, and pronounced as their opinion, that
fear must have made the women blind, or distracted their heads,
and that no doubt a real wolf had attacked the corpse, which was
by no means a strange or unusual occurrence. (But I have my own
opinion on the subject, and many who read this will think
differently from the judges, I warrant.)

For no more horrible vengeance could have been devised by
Beelzebub himself, the chief of the devils, than this of the
she-wolf Sidonia Bork (for Bork means wolf in the Gothic tongue),
to revenge herself on the priest because he disdained her love.
But why and wherefore the unfortunate corpse was found so often
turned upon its face, that I cannot explain, and it must ever
remain a mystery, I think. However, I shall pass on now to other
matters, for truly we have had enough of these disgusting horrors.
[Footnote: One of the most inveterately rooted of our
superstitions is this belief in the existence of man-wolves. Ovid
mentions it in his <i>Lycaon</i>, and even Herodotus. Many modern
examples are given in Dr. Weggand's natural history, which book I
recommend to all lovers of the marvellous, for they will find much
in it which far surpasses what we have related above concerning
Sidonia. The belief in a vampire, which Lord Byron has clothed
with his genius, belongs to the same order of superstitions; and
Horst, in his Magic Library, furnishes some very curious remarks
concerning it. Even Luther himself believed in the possibility of
such existences.]




CHAPTER XII.

<i>How Jobst Bork has himself carried to Marienfliess in his bed,
to reclaim his fair young daughter Diliana--Item, how George
Putkammer threatens Sidonia with a drawn sword.</i>


Now Jobst Bork of Saatzig had but this one daughter, the fair
Diliana, whom he loved ten times more than his life; and no sooner
had he heard of her flight than he guessed readily whither, and
for what cause, she had flown; for, that day and night her
thoughts were bent on how to help him, he knew well; also, the
teachings of old Lisa were not unknown to him. So he resolved to
go and seek her, and sent for twelve peasants to carry him, as he
was, in his bed, to Marienfliess, for his limbs were so contracted
from gout that he could neither ride, walk, nor stand.

Accordingly, next morning early, the twelve peasants bearing the
couch on which lay the poor knight, entered the great gate of the
convent, and they set down the bed, by command of the knight, just
beneath Sidonia's window. Whereupon the miserable father stretched
forth his right hand, and cried out, as loud as he was able,
"Sidonia Bork, I conjure you by the living God, give me my child
again!"

Three times he repeated this adjuration. So we may imagine how the
whole convent ran together to see who was there. Anna Apenborg and
Diliana were, however, not amongst them, for they had been up late
watching by the corpse, and were still fast asleep; <i>item</i>,
Sidonia, I think, was snoring likewise, for she never appeared,
until at last she threw up the window, half-dressed, and screamed
out, "What wants the cursed knave? Hath the devil possessed you,
Jobst, in earnest? Good people, take the fellow to Dorothea's
cell--they are fit company for one another!"

But the knight again stretched forth his trembling arm from the
bed, and repeated his adjuration solemnly, using the same words.

At this, Sidonia's face glowed with anger; and seizing her
broom-stick, she rushed out of the room, down the steps, and into
the courtyard, while her long, thin, white hair flew wildly about
her face and shoulders, and her red eyes glared like two red coals
in her head. (I have omitted to notice that this horrible Satan's
hag had long since got his signature in her red eyes; for, as the
slaves of vice are known by their ash-pale colour, and the
<i>black</i> circle round their eyes, so the slaves of Satan are
known by the <i>red</i> circle.) But when the evil witch reached
the spot where the sick knight lay on his bed, and saw the crowd
standing round him, she changed her demeanour, and leaning on the
broom-stick, exclaimed, "Methinks, Jobst, you are mad; and you and
your daughter ought to be put at once into a mad-house; for, judge
all of ye who stand here round us, how unjustly I am accused.
Yesterday this man's daughter comes to me, and says she will play
my serving-wench, if I promise to cure her father; just as if I
were the Lord God, and could heal sickness as I willed; but I
refused to take her, as was meet, and the whole convent can
testify this of me; when, see now, here comes this fool of a
father, and, taking the Lord's name in vain, demands his daughter
of me, though I never had her, nor detained her; and she can go
this moment whither she likes, as ye all know."

Hereupon the abbess herself advanced to the bed, and spake--"In
truth, you err, sir knight. Sidonia hath refused to accept your
daughter's service! But here comes the fair maiden herself--ask
her if it is not so."

And Diliana, who had thrown on her clothes in haste, and ran with
Anna out of her cell, sprang forward, and fell sobbing upon her
father's bosom, who sobbed likewise, and cries, in an agitated
voice, "God be thanked, I have thee again; now I shall die happy!
Ah! silly child, how couldst thou run away from me! Dearest!--my
heart's dearest!--my own joy-giving Diliana! ah, leave me not
again before I die--it will not be long, perhaps."

Here the weeping of the peasants interrupted him, for they loved
the good knight dearly, and the rude boors sobbed, and blew their
noses, in great affliction, like so many children. But the knight
was too proud to beg a cure from Sidonia; he would rather
die--better death than humiliation. So he spake--"Children, lift
me up again, in the name of God, and bear me home; and thou, my
Diliana, walk thou by my side, sweet girl, that my eyes may not
lose thee for an instant."

So the peasants lifted up the bed again on their shoulders; but
Diliana exclaimed, "Wait, ah, my heart's dearest father, you do
our good cousin Sidonia sore injustice. Only think, she has
promised to cure you, without any recompense at all! Is it not
true, dear cousin? Set the bed down again, good vassals! Is it not
true, dear cousin?"

As she thus spoke, and kissed the claws of the horrible hell-wolf
with her beautiful bright lips, such an expression of rage and
unutterable hatred passed over Sidonia's face, that all, even the
peasants, shuddered with horror, and nearly let the bed fall from
their trembling hands; but the fair young girl was unaware of it,
for she was bending down upon the hand of the evil sorceress.

However, my hag soon composed herself; and, no doubt, fearing the
vengeance of Duke Francis, or hoping perhaps to cover her evil
deeds by this one public act of charity, and so gain a good name
before the world, and the fair opinion of their Highnesses, to
whom she had written the day previous, she rested her arm once
more upon the broom-stick, and turning to the crowd, thus spake--

"Ye shall see now that Sidonia hath a truly Christian heart in her
bosom; for, by the help of God, I will try and heap coals of fire
upon mine enemy's head. Yes, he is mine enemy. None have
persecuted me more than he and his race, though, God be good to
me, it is my own race likewise. His false father was the first to
malign me, and yet more guilty was his still falser mother; but
God punished her hypocrisy with a just judgment, for she died in
child-birth of him, so true is it what the Scripture says, 'The
Lord abhors both the bloodthirsty and deceitful man.' Ah, she was
deceitful beyond all I have met with upon earth--also, this her
son, the false Clara's son, hath made my nephew, Otto of Stramehl,
in a traitorous and unknightly manner, give him up my two
farm-houses at Zachow, and he now refuses to restore me either my
farms or the rents thereto belonging."

Here Jobst cried out, "'Tis false, Sidonia! I shall say nothing of
thy statements respecting my parents, for all who knew them
testify that they were righteous and honourable their life long,
therefore let them rest in their graves; but as touching thy
farm-houses, thou shalt have them back, as I have already written
to thee. The accumulated rents, however, thou canst not have, for
it were a strange and unjust thing, truly, to demand fifty years'
rent from me, who have only been in possession of the farms for
half a year."

"What! thou unjust knave," screamed Sidonia furiously; but then
suddenly strangled the wrath in her throat with a convulsion, as
if a wolf were gulping a bone, and continued--"It may be a hard
struggle to help one of thy name, but I remember the words of my
heavenly Bridegroom (oh, that the horrible blasphemy did not choke
her), 'I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse
you, do good to them that hate you;' and so, Jobst Bork, I will do
good to thee out of my herbal, if the merciful God will assist my
efforts, as I hope."

Then she turned her hypocritical, Satanic eyes up to heaven,
sighed, and stepping to the bed, murmured some words; then asked,
"How is it with thee now, Jobst? is there ease already?"

"Oh yes, good cousin," he answered, "I am better, much better,
thanks, good cousin! Lift me up again, children, and bear me
homeward--I thank thee, cousin!" and with these words he was borne
out of the convent gates, the fair young Diliana following him
closely; and scarcely had they left the town and reached the moor,
when the knight called out from the bed, "Oh, it is true, my own
dear daughter--praise be to God, I am indeed better; but I am so
weary!"

And he sank back almost immediately into a deep sleep, which
continued till they reached the castle of Saatzig, and the bearers
laid the bed down again in its old place in the knight's
chamber--still he woke not.

Then Diliana kneeled down beside him, and thanked the Lord with
burning tears; sprang up again quickly, and bade them saddle her
palfrey, for she must ride away, but would return again before a
couple of hours. If her father woke up in the meantime, let them
say he must not be uneasy, for that she would return soon and tell
him herself whither and on what errand she had been.

Hereupon she went to a large cabinet that stood in her father's
chamber, took out a little casket containing three golden rings,
mounted her palfrey, and rode back with all speed on the road to
Marienfliess. But I must here relate how these magic golden rings
came into possession of the family; the tradition runs as
follows:--

A long while ago the castle of Pansin, which had originally
belonged to the Knights Templars, became a fief of the Bork
family, and the Count who was then in possession went to the wars
in the Holy Land, leaving his fair young wife alone in her sorrow:
and lo! one night, as she was weeping bitterly, a spirit appeared
in her chamber, and motioned her to rise from bed and follow him
to the castle garden. But she was horror-struck, and crept
trembling under the quilt. Next night the ghost again stood by her
bed, made the same gestures even menacingly, but she was
frightened, and hid her head beneath the clothes.

The third night brought the ghost likewise; but this time the fair
lady took courage, rose from bed, and followed him in silence down
the steps into the castle garden, on to a small island, where the
two streams, the Ihna and the Krampehl, meet. Here there was a
large fire, and around it many spirits were seated. Hereupon her
ghost spake--

"Fear nothing, but fill thy apron with coals from the fire, and
return to the castle; but, I warn thee, do not look back."

The fair chatelaine did as she was desired, filled her apron, and
returned to the castle; but all the way, close behind her, there
was a terrible uproar, and the rushing and roaring as of many
people. However, she never looked back, only on reaching the
castle gates she thought she might take one peep round just as she
was closing them; but, lo! instantly her apron was rent, and the
coals fell hither and thither on the ground, and out of all she
could only save three pieces, with which she rushed on to her own
apartment, never again looking behind her, though the uproar
continued close to her very heels all the way up to her chamber
door; and trembling with dread, and commending herself to all the
saints, she at last threw herself on her bed once more in safety.
But next morning, on looking for the coals, she found three golden
rings in their stead bearing strange inscriptions, which no man
hath been able to decipher until this day. As to those she had
dropped at the castle gate, they were nowhere to be seen; and on
the fourth night the ghost comes again, and scolds her for
disobeying his orders, but admonishes her to preserve the three
rings safely, for if she lost one, a great misfortune would fall
upon the village, and the castle be rent violently--<i>item</i>,
but two of her race would ever be alive at the same time; if the
second were lost, her race would be reduced to direst poverty; and
if the third ring were lost, the race would disappear entirely
from the earth.

After this, when her knightly spouse returned from Jerusalem, and
she told him the wonderful story of the three rings, he had a
costly casket made for them, in which they were safely locked,
with a rose of Jericho placed above them, which he had himself
brought from the Holy Land; and this wonderful treasure has been
preserved by the Count's descendants with jealous care, even until
this day. I have said that no man could read the inscriptions on
the rings: they were all the same--the three as like as the leaves
of a trefoil. They were all large enough for the largest man's
thumb, and made of the purest crown gold: the shield was of a
circular form, bearing in the centre the figure of a Knight
Templar in full armour, with spur and shield, keeping watch before
the Temple at Jerusalem; but what the characters around the figure
signified, I leave unsaid, and many, I am thinking, will leave
unsaid likewise. [Footnote: It is a fact, that no one up to the
present time has been able to decipher this very remarkable
inscription, not even Silvestre de Sacy himself, to whom it was
sent some years ago. Dreger's reading, given in Daehnert's
Pomeranian Library, iv. p. 295, is manifestly wrong--<i>Ordo
Hierosolymitamis</i>. But two of the rings are forthcoming now;
and in fulfilment of the tradition, a tremendous rent really
followed the loss of the first in the old castle of Pansin, which
may yet be seen in this fine ruin, whose like is not to be found
in all Pomerania, nor, indeed, in the north of Germany. The two
remaining rings, with the rose of Jericho, are still to be seen in
the original casket, which is of curious and costly workmanship,
and this casket is again enclosed in another of iron, with strong
hoops and clasps. Should any of my readers desire to discover the
meaning of the inscription, he will do me the highest favour by
communicating the same to me.]

<i>In summa</i>.--When Diliana arrived with these rings, the poor
Dorothea lay again in the devil's fetters. She roared, and
screamed, and raged horribly, and tore her bed-clothes, and foamed
at the mouth, and even abused and reviled the beautiful young
virgin, who took, however, no heed thereof, but with permission of
the abbess laid the three rings upon the stomach of the sick nun,
who immediately became quite still, and so lay for a little while,
after which, with a loud roar, Satan went out of her, while the
windows clattered and the glasses rang upon the table. Then she
fell into a deep sleep, and on awakening remembered nothing of
what had happened, but seeing Diliana prepared to set out on her
homeward ride, asked with wonder, "Who is this strange young
maiden, and what does she here?"

After this, as I may as well briefly notice here, Dorothea became
quite well, and by the mercy of God remained for ever after
untouched by the demon claws of the great enemy of mankind.

Meanwhile the good Diliana felt it to be her duty to descend to
the refectory, and thank the hell-dragon for the refreshing sleep
which her father, Jobst, had obtained by her means. But, ah! how
does she find my dragon? Her eyes shoot fire and flame, and in an
instant she flew at poor Diliana on the subject of marriage--

"What! she wanted to marry too! She was scarcely out of school,
and yet already was thinking about marriage!"

"Good cousin," answered the other, "I have indeed no thoughts of
marriage, and no desire for it has ever entered my heart."

"What!" screamed my dragon; "you lie to me, child! The whole
convent talks of it; and Anna Apenborg herself told me that you
are betrothed to that beardless boy George Putkammer. Fie! a
fellow without a beard."

Hereupon she began to spit out. But George Putkammer that instant
clattered up the steps; for the news had come to Pansin, of which
castle Jobst Bork had made him castellan, seeing that he set much
store by the brave young knight, and would willingly have had him
for his son-in-law, if his fair little daughter Diliana had not
resisted his entreaties, <i>bis dalo</i>; the news came, I say,
now that Diliana had run away from her father, and gone to play
the serving-wench to Sidonia. So the knight seized his good sword,
and went forth, like another Perseus, to save his Andromeda, and
deliver her from the dragon, even if his own life were to pay the
cost. He knew not that the damning dragon despised the service of
the mild, innocent girl, nor that Jobst Bork had gone to offer
himself as a sacrifice in her place.

So he clattered up the steps, dashed open the door, and finding
Sidonia in the very act of spitting out, he drew his sword, and
roared--

"Dare to touch even a finger of that angel beside thee, and thy
black toad's blood shall rust upon this sword."

And when Sidonia started back alarmed, he continued--

"O Diliana, much loved and beautiful maiden, what does my queen
here? Where have you heard that the angels of God seek help and
shelter from the devil, as you have done here? Return with me to
Saatzig, and, by my faith, some other means shall make this vile
wretch help your poor father."

Sidonia now screamed with rage--

"What wants this silly varlet here, this beardless young
profligate? Ha, youngster, thou shalt pay for thy bold, saucy
tongue!"

<i>Ille</i>.--"Hold thy accursed mouth, or I will give thee such a
blow that thou shalt never need it again, but to groan. Listen,
cursed beast of hell, and mark my words. Since our gracious Lord
of Stettin handles thee so gently, and lets thee heap evil upon
evil at thine own vile will, I and another noble have sworn
solemnly to rid the land from such a curse. Let it cost our lives
or not, we shall avenge our country in thy blood, unless thou
ceasest to work all thy diabolical wickedness. Now, therefore,
hear me. Delay one instant to heal the upright Jobst and to remove
thy accursed witch-spell from off him, and this sword shall take a
bloody revenge; or if but a finger ache of this beautiful maiden
here, thy death is certain. Think not to escape. Thou mayst lame
me, like Jobst or Wedel, or murder me as others, it will not help
thee; for my friend hath sworn, if such happen, that he will ride
straight to Marienfliess, and run his sword through thy body
without a word. Two horses stand, day and night, ready saddled in
my stall, and in a quarter of an hour we are here--he or I, it
matters not, whichever is left alive, or both together, and we
shall hew thee from head to foot, even as I hew this jar in two
that stands upon the table, so that human hand shall never lift it
more."

So saying, he struck the jar with his sword, when it flew into a
thousand pieces, and the beer dashed over the hag's clothes, so
that she raised a cry of terror, for such speech had no man ever
yet dared to hold to her.

But the brave Diliana seized hold of the young knight's sword,
crying--

"For God's sake, sir knight, what mean you? You do my good cousin
sore injustice; I have never seen you thus before. Sidonia hath
declined to take me for her maid, and has helped my poor father,
of her own free will, for he was here yesterday, and now rests
safe in Saatzig in a deep and healthful sleep; for which cause I
come hither to thank my good cousin for her kindness. Where is
your justice, sir knight--your honour? Bethink you how often you
have extolled these noble virtues yourself to me!"

As the knight listened, and heard that her father was already
cured, he marvelled greatly; inquired all the particulars, but
shook his head at the end, saying--

"'A corrupt tree cannot bring forth good fruit, and figs are not
to be gathered from thorns.' That she has helped your father, I
take as no sign of her kindness, but of her fear; therefore my
resolve stands good. Sidonia, thou accursed hag, touch but one
finger of this maiden or her father, and I will hew thee in
pieces, even as I cleft this jar. But you, fair lady, permit me to
ride home with you to your father's castle, and see how it stands
with the brave knight's health, and whether he has in truth been
cured."

Meanwhile Sidonia hath spat forth again, and begins running like a
wild cat in her rage round the room, so that her kerchief falls
off, and her two sharp, dry, ash-coloured shoulder-bones stick up
to sight, like pegs for hanging baskets on; and she curses and
blasphemes the young knight and his whole race, who, however,
cares little for her wrath, but gently taking Diliana by the hand,
said tenderly--

"Come, dear lady, come from this hell-hole, and leave the old
dragon to dance and rage at her pleasure, as much as she likes."

The lady, however, withdrew her hand, saying, "Ride back alone to
Saatzig, sir knight! It is not seemly for a young maiden to ride
through the wood with a young man alone. Besides, I must stay a
little, and comfort my poor cousin for all your hard words--see
how you have vexed her!"

But Sidonia paused, and laughed loud and long, mocking the young
knight's disappointment; so after he had again prayed the maiden
in vain to accompany him, he left the refectory in silence, sprang
upon his barb, and rode on to the wood, resolving to wait there
till Diliana came up.

And in truth he had to wait long. At last, however, she appeared
through the trees, and on seeing him she was angry, and bade him
ride his ways. So my knight entreats for the love of God that she
will listen to him, for he can no longer live without her. By day
and by night her image floats before him, and wherefore should she
be so hard and cruel-hearted towards him? Better to have let him
die at once under the hands of the murderers in the forest, than
to let him die daily and hourly before her eyes, of the bitter
love-death. Was he, then, really such an object of abhorrence to
her, such a fire in her eyes? Alas! alas! could she but know his
torments!"

"Sir knight," she answered, "you are no fire in my eyes, unless it
be the cold fire of the moon. Have patience, sir knight; why do
you press me for a promise when you have heard my resolve?"

<i>Ille.</i>--"Patience! How could he have patience longer? Ah!
her father had long since consented, but she was but as the moon
in the brook to the child who tries to lay hold of it, since she
had talked of the moon."

<i>Haec</i>.--"Sir knight, you compel me to a confidence."

<i>Ille.</i> (riding up close to her palfrey).--"Speak! dearest
Diliana."

<i>Haec</i> (drawing back).--"Come no nearer. What if any one saw
us. Listen! Yesterday six weeks, my grandmother, Clara von Dewitz,
who died, as you know, giving birth to my father, appeared to me
in a dream. She was wrapped in a bloody shroud, and her eyes were
starting forth horribly from her head, when I shuddered with
terror, and the poor ghost spoke--'Diliana, I am Clara von Dewitz,
and thou art the one selected to avenge me, provided thou dost
keep thy virgin honour pure in thought, word, and deed!' With
this she disappeared, and now, sir knight, judge for yourself what
is henceforth my duty."

Now the knight tried to laugh her out of her belief in this ghost
story, said it was all fancy, the same had often happened to
himself; not once, but a hundred times, had he seen a ghost, as he
thought, but found out afterwards there was no ghost at all in the
business, &c. However, his words and smiles have no effect. She
knew what she knew, and whether she was deceived or not about this
apparition of her grandmother, time would show, and <i>bis
dalo</i>, she would remain obedient to her commands, and preserve
her virgin honour pure in thought, word, and deed, even if it were
to be for her life long, until she saw clearly what purpose God
destined her to accomplish.

Now as my poor knight began his solicitations again yet more
earnestly, the fair maiden drew herself up gravely, and said,
"Adieu! sir knight, ride your own path, I go mine! At present I
shall select no spouse; but if I ever give my hand to man, you
shall be the selected one, sir knight, and no other. Now return to
your own castle. If you wish to see my father, come to-morrow to
Saatzig, for I shall ride there alone now. Farewell!"

And off she cantered on her palfrey, hop, hop, hop, as fast as an
arrow from a bow, and her red feathers gleamed through the green
leaves of the forest trees, so that my knight stood watching, her,
filled with as much joy as sorrow, for the maiden now seemed to
him so beautiful, and he watched her as long as a glimpse of her
feathers could be had through the trees, and then he listened as
long as the tramp of her palfrey could be heard (for he told me
this himself), then he alighted, and kneeling down, prayed to God
the Lord to bless this beautiful darling of his heart, whilst he
sobbed like a child, for sorrow and the sweet anguish of love.
Then he rose up, and obedient to her commands, took his way back
to the stately castle of Pansin.

But next morning early, he was at Saatzig, where the good knight
Jobst receives him joyfully at table, quite restored to health.
Nor has aught evil happened to the beautiful Diliana, as the
knight feared from the spitting of Sidonia. However, he heard from
the maiden, that after he left the refectory, Sidonia spat a
second time, probably to remove the first witch-spell (for no
doubt she feared the knight would hold his word, and hew her in
pieces if aught evil happened to the fair young maiden). And for
the rest, the knight ceased to trouble Diliana with his
solicitations; but he made father and daughter promise to give him
instant notice if but a finger ached, and he would instantly find
one sure way to bind the wild beast of Marienfliess for ever,
namely, with his good sword.




CHAPTER XIII.

<i>How my gracious Lord Bishop Franciscus and the reverend Dr.
Joel go to the Jews' school at Old Stettin, in order to steal the
Schem Hamphorasch, and how the enterprise finishes with a sound
cudgelling.</i>


Meanwhile my gracious Duke Francis was puzzling his brain, day and
night, how best to bind this malicious dragon, and hinder her from
utterly destroying his whole race. He wanted to effect, by the
agency of spirits, what George Putkammer had already effected by
his good sword, as we have related before. So his Highness must
needs send for Dr. Joel, in all haste, to Old Stettin, to ask him
whether it were not possible to break the power of the evil witch
by spiritual agency; for as to human, it was out of the question,
since no one could be found to lay hands on her. They would as
soon touch the bodily Satan himself.

Whereupon my <i>magister</i> answered, that he had already, to
serve his Grace, consulted divers spirits as to what could be done
in this sore strait, but none would undertake a contest with
Sidonia's spirit, which was powerful and strong, and, acting in
concert always with the spirit of old Wolde, had the might in
himself, as it were, of two demons. For this reason they must try
two modes of casting out the evil thing. The first was to exorcise
the sun-spirit, according to the form in the <i>Clavicula
Salomonis</i>, for he was the most powerful of all the astral
spirits, and question him as to what should be done. But for this
conjuration a pure young virgin was necessary, not merely pure in
act, but in thought, in soul. Even her very garments must be woven
by a virgin's hands, otherwise the holy angels, who neither marry
nor are given in marriage, would not appear. For they obey only
the summons of one who is as pure as themselves, in body and in
soul. Such a being he had once possessed in his only little
daughter, a virgin of eighteen years. All her clothes had been
spun and woven by virgin hands, and as she had a brave spirit, she
had often helped him to cite the astral angel <i>Och</i>. But the
last time she had assisted at the conjuration, the angel himself
had strangled her with his own hands, twisting her neck so
horribly that her tongue hung out of her mouth. And thus she died
before his very face. The cause was, as he, poor father, had heard
afterwards, that she had suffered a young student to kiss her, and
so the pure virginity of her soul was lost. Now if the gracious
Prince knew of any such pure virgin, who besides must be brave and
courageous as an amazon, matters would proceed easily, they would
make an end of the demon Sidonia without the least difficulty. He
had the clothes ready, all spun by virgins; <i>item</i>, all the
necessary <i>instruments</i>.

So my gracious Prince sits and thinks awhile, then shakes his
head, and says, laughing, "Methinks such a virgin were rarer than
a white raven. It would be easy to find one pure in form, but a
virgin pure in soul--and then as brave as Deborah and Judith. Mag.
Joel, such a virgin, methinks, is not to be had, and you did evil
to put your poor little daughter to such a test. For woman-flesh
is a weak flesh since the day of Eve, as we all know. But you
talked of a second mode: what is it? Let me hear."

Hereupon the <i>magister</i> sighed for grief, wiped his eyes, and
spake--"Ah, yes! you are right, my good lord. Fool that I was, I
might have had my little daughter still, for though she only
allowed the student to kiss her, yet by that one kiss the pure
mirror of her soul was dimmed, and before the angels of God she
was henceforth unholy. However, as touching the second method, it
is the Schem Hamphorasch, through which all things are possible."

<i>The Duke</i>.--"What is the Schem Hamphorasch?"

<i>Ille</i>.--"The seventy names of the Most High and ever-blessed
God, according to the seventy nations, and the seventy tongues,
and the seventy elders of Moses, and the seventy disciples of
Christ, and the seventy weeks of Daniel. To him who knows this
name, the holy God will appear again as He did aforetime in the
days of the patriarchs."

<i>The Duke</i>.--"You are raving, good Joel; yet--but how can
this be possible?"

<i>Ille</i>.--"I am not raving, gracious Prince; for tell me,
wherefore is it that the great God does not appear to men now as
He did in times long past? I answer, because we no longer know His
name. This name, or the Schem Hamphorasch, Adam knew in Paradise,
and therefore spake with God, as well as with all animals and
plants. Noah, Abraham, Moses, Elijah, &c.--all knew this name, and
performed their wonders by it alone. But when the beastly and
idolatrous Jews gave themselves over to covetousness and all
uncleanness, they forgot this holy name; so, as a punishment, they
endured a year of slavery for each of the seventy names which they
had forgotten; and we find them, therefore, serving seventy years
in Babylonian bonds. After this they never learned it again, and
all miracles and wonders ceased from amongst them, until the
ever-blessed God sent His Son into the world, to teach them once
more the revelation of the Schem Hamphorasch; and to all who
believed on Him He freely imparted this name, by which also they
worked wonders; and that it might be fixed for ever in their
hearts, He taught them the blessed Pater Noster, in which they
were bid each day to repeat the words, 'Hallowed be Thy name.'
Yea, even in that last glorious high-priestly prayer of His--in
face of the bitter anguish and death that was awaiting Him, He
says, 'Father, keep them in Thy name;' or, as Luther translates
it, 'Keep them above Thy name.' For how easily this name is lost,
we learn from David, who says that he spelt it over in the night,
so that it might not pass from his mind (Psalm cxix. 55).
<i>Item</i>, after the resurrection, He gave command to go and
baptize all nations-not in the name of the Father, of the Son, and
of the Holy Ghost, as Luther has falsely rendered the passage, but
<i>for</i>, or <i>by</i>, the name-that such might always be kept
before their eyes, and never more pass away from the knowledge of
mankind. And the holy apostles faithfully kept it, and St. Paul
made it known to the heathen, as we learn (Acts ix, 15). And all
miracles that they performed were by this name. Now the knowledge
remained also with the early Christians, and each person was
baptized <i>by</i> this name; and he who knew it by heart could
work miracles likewise, as we know by Justin Martyr and others,
who have written of the power and miraculous gifts of the early
Church. But when the pure doctrine became corrupted, and the
Christian Church (like the Jewish of former times) gave itself up
to idolatry, masses, image-worship, and the like, the knowledge of
the mystic name was withdrawn, and all miracles have ceased in the
Church from that up to this day."

While Magister Joel so spake, his Highness Duke Francis fell into
a deep fit of musing. At last he exclaimed, "Good Joel, you are a
fanatic, an enthusiast--surely we know the name of God; or what
hinders us from knowing it?"

<i>Ille</i>.--"You err, my gracious Prince, for this name is the
holy and mystic <i>Tetragrammaton</i>, 'Jehovah,' which is the
chief and highest name of God, and which truly is found written in
the Scriptures; but of the true pronunciation of the name no man
knoweth at this day, for the letters J H V H are wanting in all
the old manuscripts." [Footnote: For those who are unacquainted
with Hebrew, I shall just observe here, that, in fact, the proper
pronunciation of the name "Jehovah" is a vexed question with the
learned up to this hour. Ewald, one of the latest authorities, and
who has taken much trouble in investigating the subject, says,
that there is the highest probability that the word should be
pronounced "Jahve," signifying, He who should come
(hoxrcho'menos), for which reason the Baptist's disciples asked
Christ (Matt. xi. 13), "Art Thou He who should come?"--namely, the
Messias, Jahve, or, as we call it, Jehovah. Compare Heb. x. 37;
Hagg. ii. 6, 7; Rev. i. 8. I must observe, next, that all the
Theophanisms (God manifestations) recorded in the Old Testament,
to which the theosophistic, cabalistic Dr. Joel refers, were
considered by the earty Christian fathers as manifestations to the
senses, not of <i>God</i>--whom no man hath seen or can see--but
of the asarchos Christ. Even the elder rabbins understand, in
these Theophanisms, not <i>God</i>, but the Mediator between God
and the world--the angel Metatron. For the rest, I need scarcely
remark that the exegesis of Dr. Joel is false throughout. The
Bible has been so tortured to support each man's individual,
strange, crude dogma, that it is no wonder even Protestants are
falling back upon <i>tradition</i> as the best and surest
interpreter of Scripture, and the clearest light to read it by.]

Magister Joel continues--"But be comforted; there were some
faithful souls on the earth, who did not entirely lose the
remembrance of the Schem Hamphorasch; and your Highness will
wonder to hear, that even in this very town the secret exists, in
the possession of an old man, who has it, really and truly, locked
up in his trunk, though, I confess, he is as great a rogue himself
as ever breathed."

Hereupon his Grace jumped up, and embraced the <i>magister</i>.
"Let him not spare the gold; only bring him this treasure. How
could it be done? How did the man get it? Let him tell the whole
story."

<i>Ille</i>.--"It was a long story; but he would just give it in
brief:--A Jew out of Anklam, named Benjamin, went on a pilgrimage
to Jerusalem; and having suffered great hardships and distress by
the way, was taken in and sheltered by a hermit, in the desert,
who converted and baptized him. The Jew stayed with the old hermit
till he died; and the old man, as a costly legacy, left him the
Schem Hamphorasch, written on seventy palm-leaves. But as Benjamin
could not read a word of Hebrew, he resolved to return home to
Pomerania, where his mother's brother lived-the Rabbi Reuben Ben
Joachai, of Stettin. However, when he presented himself, poor and
naked as he was, at his uncle's door, the rabbi pushed him away,
and shut the door in his face the moment he said he had a favour
to ask of him. This treatment so afflicted Benjamin that he took
ill on his return to the inn; but having nothing wherewith to pay
the host, he sent a message to his uncle, the rabbi, bidding him
come to him, as he had a secret to impart.

"When the rabbi arrived, Benjamin asked, 'What he would give for
the Schem Hamphorasch, for people told him that it was the
greatest of all treasures?--to him, however, it was useless, since
he could not read Hebrew.'

"Hereat the rabbi's eyes sparkled; he took the palm-leaves in his
hand, and seeing that all was correct, offered a ducat for the
whole; this Benjamin refused. Whereupon, after many cunning
efforts to possess himself of it, which were all in vain, the
rabbi had to depart without the treasure. However, Benjamin,
suspecting that he would come back for it in a little while, cut
out two of the leaves from revenge, and when my knave of a rabbi
returned, he sold him the incomplete copy for five ducats at last.

"This same Benjamin I (the <i>magister</i>) attended afterwards in
hospital when he was dying, and as the poor wretch had no money,
he gave me himself, upon his death-bed, the two abstracted
palm-leaves out of gratitude, being all he had to offer. These two
are now in my possession, and if we could only obtain the other
portion, your Highness would have the holy and mystic Schem
Hamphorasch complete. But how to get it? Gold he had already
offered in vain to the Jew, Rabbi Reuben, who even denied having
the Schem Hamphorasch at all; but his servant, Meir, for a good
bribe, told him in confidence that his master, the rabbi, really
and in truth had this treasure, though the knave denied the fact
to him. It lay in a drawer in the Jewish school, beside the book
of the law or the <i>Thora</i>, and my magister thought they might
manage to gain admittance some night into the Jews' school by
bribing the man Meir well. Then they could easily possess
themselves of the Schem Hamphorasch (which indeed was of no use to
the old knave of a rabbi), for the drawer could be known at once
by the tapestry which hung before it, in imitation of the veil of
the Temple. If they once had the treasure, the angel Metatron
would appear to them, the mightiest of all angels, and his
Highness could not only obtain his protection against the devil's
magic of the sorceress of Marienfliess, but also induce him to
look graciously upon his Grace's dear spouse, whom this evil
dragon had bewitched, as all the world saw plainly, so that she
remained childless, as well as all the other dukes and duchesses
of dear Pomerania land, who were rendered barren and unfruitful
likewise by some demon spell."

Hereupon his Grace cried out with joy, "True, true! I will make
him do all that; and when I obtain the Schem Hamphorasch I will
learn it myself by heart, and repeat it day and night like King
David, so that it never shall go out of my head--<i>item</i>, all
priests in the land shall learn it by heart; and I will gather
them together three times a year at Camyn, and hear them myself,
man by man, repeat this said Schem Hamphorasch, so that never more
can it pass from the memory of our Church, as it did from that of
the filthy Jews, or the impure Christians of the Papacy."

<i>Summa</i>.--The rabbi's servant, Meir, is bribed, and he
promises to admit them both next night into the Jews' school, for
there was to be a meeting there of the elders, and his master, the
said Rabbi Reuben Ben Joachai, was to examine a <i>moranu</i> or
teacher. They could conceal themselves in the women's gallery,
where no one would discover them, and after every one had gone,
slip down and take what they pleased out of the drawer, then make
off, for he would leave the door open for them--that was all he
could do--his master might come, &c.

So all was done as agreed upon; the Prince and Mag. Joel crept up
to the women's gallery, in which were little bull's-eyes, through
which they could see clearly all that was going on; and scarcely
were the candles lit when my knave of a rabbi enters (he was a
long, dry carl, with a white beard, and ragged coat bound round
the waist with a girdle); <i>item</i>, the candidate, I think he
was called David, a little man, with curly red beard, and long red
locks falling down at each side upon his breast; <i>item</i>,
seven elders, and they place themselves in their great hats round
a table. Then the Rabbi Reuben demands of the candidate to pay his
dues first, for a knave had lately run away without paying them at
all; the dues were ten ducats.

When the candidate had reckoned down the gold, Rabbi Reuben
commenced to question him in Hebrew; whereupon the other excused
himself, said he knew Hebrew, but could not answer in it; prayed,
therefore, the master would conduct the examination in German.
Hereupon my knave of a rabbi looked grave, seemed to think that
would be impossible, consulted with the elders, and finally asked
them, if the candidate David paid down each of them two ducats,
and ten to himself, would they consent to have the examination
conducted in the language of the German sow? Would they consent to
this, out of great charity and mercy to the candidate David?

"Yea, yea--even so let it be," screamed the elders; "God is
merciful likewise."

So my David again unbuttoned his coat, and reckoned down the fine;
whereupon the examination began in German, and I shall here note
part of it down, that all men may know what horrible blindness and
folly has fallen upon the Jews, by permission of the Lord God,
since they imprecated the blood of Christ upon their own heads.
Not even amongst the blindest of the heathen have such base, low,
grovelling superstitions and dogmas been discovered as these
accursed Jews have forged for themselves since the dispersion, and
collected in the Talmud. Well may the blessed Luther say, "If a
Christian seeks instruction in the Scripture from a Jew, what else
is it than seeking sight from the blind, reason from the mad, life
from the dead, grace and truth from the devil?"

And this madness and blindness of the accursed race would never
have been fully known, only that the examination was held in
German (for in general it is conducted in Hebrew, to please the
vain Jews), by which means the Prince and Doctor Joel heard every
word, and wrote it all down on their return home; and when
afterwards his Highness Duke Francis succeeded to the government,
he banished this rabbi and the elders, with their whole forge of
blasphemy and lies, for ever from his capital.

Here, therefore, are some of the most remarkable questions; but I
must premise that K. means my Knave, namely, the rabbi, and C. the
<i>Candidates</i>. [Footnote: Lest my reader might think that what
follows is a malicious invention of my own to bring the Jews into
disrepute, I shall add the precise page of the Talmud from which
each question is taken (from Eisenmenger's "Judaism Unveiled,"
Koenigsberg, 1711, and other sources). The Jews, I know, endeavour
to deny that they hold these doctrines; but it is nevertheless
quite true that all their learned men who have been converted to
Christianity since the time of the Reformation confessed that
these dogmas were intimately woven into their belief, and formed
its groundwork.]

<i>K</i>.--"Which is holier, the Talmud or the Scriptures?"

<i>C</i>.--"I think the Talmud."

<i>K</i>.--"Wherefore, wherefore?"

<i>C</i>.--"Because Raf Aschi hath said, he who goes from the
Halacha (the Talmudical teaching) to the Scripture will have no
more luck; [Footnote: Talmud, tract. Chagiga, fol. X. col. I. Raf
Aschi, the author the Gemara, a portion of the Talmud.] and good
luck we all prize dearly above all things--eh, my master?"

<i>K.</i>--"Right, right. Who is he like who reads only in the
Scripture, and not in the Talmud? What say our fathers of blessed
memory?"

<i>C</i>.--"They say that he is like one who has no God."
[Footnote: Talmud, tract. Eruvin.]

<i>K.</i>--"Can the holy and ever-blessed One sin? What is the
greatest sin He has committed?"

<i>C.</i>--"First; He made the moon smaller than the sun."

<i>K.</i>--"Our rabbis of blessed memory are doubtful upon this
point, as Jonathan, the son of Usiel, says, in the Targum of
Moses. [Footnote: The ancient Chaldee paraphrase of the Old
Testament is called Targum by the Jews. It is split into the
Jerusalemitan, and the Babylonian Targum.] But which is the
greatest sin of all that the holy and ever-blessed One committed?"

<i>C.</i>--"I think it was when He forswore himself. [Footnote:
Talmud, tract. Sanhedrin.] For He first swore, saith Rabbi
Eliaser, that the children of Israel, who were wandering in the
desert, should have no part in eternal life; and then His oath lay
heavy on Him, so that He got the angel Mi to absolve Him
therefrom."

<i>K.</i>--"It was, in truth, a great sin, but a greater,
methinks, was, that He created the accursed Nazarene--the
Jesu--the idol of the children of Edom. I mean the Christ."

<i>C.</i>--"Rabbi, that is not in the Talmud."

<i>K.</i>--"Fool! it is the same. <i>I</i> have said it, therefore
it is true. Knowest thou not, when a rabbi says, 'This thy right
hand is thy left, and this thy left hand is thy right,' thou must
believe it, or thou wilt be dammed?" [Footnote: Targum upon Deut.
xvii. 11.]

Here all the elders cried out--

"Yea, yea; the word of a rabbi is more to be esteemed than the
words of the law, and their words are more beautiful than the
words of the prophets, for they are words of the living God."
[Footnote: Talmud, tract. Sanhedrin.]

<i>K.</i>--"Now answer--what says the Talmud of that Adam Belial,
that Jesu, that crucified, of whom the Christians say that he was
God?"

<i>C.</i>--"That he was the son of an evil woman, who learned
sorcery in Egypt, and he hid the sorcery in his flesh, in a wound
which he made therein, and with the magic he deceived the people,
and turned them from God. He practised idolatry with a baked
stone, and prostrated himself before his own idol; and finally, as
a fit punishment, he was first stoned to death, upon the eve of
the passover, and then hung up upon a cross made of a
cabbage-stalk, after which, Onkelos, the fallen Titus' sister's
son, conjured him up out of hell." [Footnote: Although the Jews
deny that Christ is named in the Talmud, saying that another Jesus
is meant, yet Eisenmenger has fully proved the contrary, on the
most convincing grounds.]

<i>K</i>.--"Is it possible to find more detestable Gojim than
these impure and dumb children of Talvus--these Christian swine?"
[Footnote: Children of Edom, children of harlots, swine, dogs,
abominations, worshippers of the crucified, idolaters, are titles
of honour freely given to Christians by the rabbis.--See
Eisenmenger.]

<i>C</i>.--"No; that were impossible."

<i>K</i>.--"It permitted us to deceive them and spoil them of
their goods."

<i>C</i>.--"Eh? Wherefore are we the selected people, if we could
not spoil the children of Edom? They are our slaves, for we have
gold and they have none."

<i>K</i>.--"Good, good; but where is it written that we may spoil
the swine and take their goods?"

<i>C</i>.--"The Talmud says, it is permitted to deceive a Goi, and
take his goods." [Footnote: Tract. Bava Mezia.]

<i>K</i>.--"Forget not the principal passage, Tract. Megilla, fol.
l3--'What, is it then permitted to the just to deal deceitfully?
And he answered, Yea, for it is written, With the pure thou shalt
be pure, and with the froward thou shalt learn frowardness.'
[Footnote: 2 Sam. xxii. 27; a specimen of how the Talmudists
interpret the Bible.] <i>Item</i>, it is written expressly in the
<i>Parascha Bereschith</i>, 'It is permitted to the just to deal
deceitfully, even as Jacob dealt;' and if our fathers of blessed
memory acted thus, we were fools indeed not to skin the Christian
dogs and flog them to the death. (Spitting out.) Curse on the
unclean swine!"

<i>C.</i>--"I will be no such fool, rabbi, and if they compel me
to take an oath, I will do as Rabbi Akkiva of blessed memory."

<i>K.</i>--"Right, my son; pity thou canst not speak Hebrew;
methinks then thou wouldst have been a light in Israel. Speak--how
hath the Rabbi Akkiva sworn?"

<i>C.</i>--"The Talmud says, 'Hereupon the Rabbi Akkiva took the
oath with his lips, but in his heart he abjured it." [Footnote:
Talmud, tract. Calla.]

<i>K.</i>--"The Rabbi Akkiva, of blessed memory, was but a sorry
liver. Canst thou, too, defend the violation of the marriage vow?"

<i>C.</i>--"With the wives of the unclean Christian dogs,
wherefore not? For Moses saith (Lev. xx. 10), 'He who committeth
adultery with his <i>neighbour's</i> wife shall be put to death;'
so saith the Talmud, the wives of <i>others</i> are excepted; and
Rabbi Solomon expressly says on this passage, that under the word
'others' the wives of Gojim, or the Christian dogs, are meant."
[Footnote: Eisenmenger quotes a prayer-book of the Jews on this
subject, called <i>The Great Tephilla</i>.]

<i>K.</i>--"Yea, cursed be they and their whole race. Dost thou
curse them daily, as is thy duty?"

<i>C.</i>--"My duty is to curse them once; I curse them thrice."
[Footnote: Talmud, tract. Sanhedrin.]

<i>K.</i>--"Then wilt thou be recompensed threefold when Messias
comes, and the fine dishes and the fine clothes will grow out of
the blessed earth of themselves, that it will be a pleasure to see
them. [Footnote: Talmud, tract. Kethuvoth.] Speak--what saith the
Talmud? How large will the grapes then be?"

<i>C.</i>--"So large that a man will put a single grape in the
corner of his house, and tap it as if it were a beer-barrel. Is
not that almost too large, master!"

<i>K</i>.--"Look at my pert wisehead! Knowest thou not, that he
who mocks the words of the wise goes straight to hell, as happened
to that disciple who laughed at the Rabbi Jochanan when he said
that precious stones should be set in the gates of Jerusalem,
three ells long and three ells broad? [Footnote: Talmud, tract
Bava Bathra.] <i>Item</i>, hast thou not read how Rabbi Jacob Ben
Dosethai went one morning from Lud to Ono for three miles in pure
honey, or how Rabbi Ben Levi saw grapes in the land of Canaan so
large that he mistook them for fatted calves. What, then, will it
not be when Messias comes? [Footnote: In tractat Kethuvoth] But
who will <i>not</i> partake these blessings?"

<i>C.</i>--"The accursed swine, the Christians." [Footnote:
Eisenmenger ii. 777, &c. On this point he brings forward numerous
quotations from the later rabbinical writings; for it is certain
that on <i>this</i> subject the Talmud judges more mildly.]

<i>K</i>.--"Wherefore not?"

<i>C.</i>--"Because they cat swine's flesh, and believe on the
Talvus, who deceived the people through his sorceries."

<i>K</i>.--"All true; but when the Talmud says that the impure
Nazarene brought all his sorceries out of Egypt, what say our
rabbis of blessed memory against that?"

<i>C.</i>--"That he secretly stole the Schem Hamphorasch out of
the Temple, and stitched it into his flesh." [Footnote: An extract
from the horrible book of curses against the Saviour, the
<i>Toledotk Jeschu</i>, is given in Eisenmenger; the entire is
printed in Dr. Wagenseil's <i>Tela Ignea Satanae</i>]

<i>K</i>.--"What is the Schem Hamphorasch?"

<i>C.</i>--"God's wonder, His greatest! the seventy names of the
holy and ever-blessed God; and to him who knows them will the
angel Metatron appear, as he appeared to our forefathers, and all
stones can he turn to diamonds, and all loam to gold."

<i>K</i>.--"Dost thou know, my son, that I myself possess this
Schem Hamphorasch?"

<i>C</i> (clasping his hands).--"Wonder of God! can it be? And
have you all these riches?"

<i>K</i>.--"One of the accursed Christian dogs deceived me, and
kept back two of the leaves (may God plague him in eternity for
it), but still it effects much. I sell the holy Schem in little
pieces, as a cure for all diseases; yea, even bits no larger than
a grain will bring three ducats; <i>item</i>, I sell bits of it to
the dying to lay upon their stomachs, that so they may gain
eternal blessedness. Wilt thou buy a little grain too--eh? Ask the
elders here if ever better physic were found than the least grain
of dust from the holy Schem Hamphorasch?"

So the elders swore as my knave bid them, and said that no better
physic could be, and told of the various diseases which it had
cured in their own persons; <i>item</i>, that no Jew in the whole
town was without a morsel, be it large or small, to lay on his
stomach when dying; "but the greater the piece," said the rabbi,
"the greater the blessedness."

Now as the red-haired disciple seemed much inclined to purchase a
bit, the rabbi went over to the drawer, withdrew the tapestry, and
lifting up the golden jad, [Footnote: The jad--a gold or silver
hand with which a priest pointed out each line to the reader of
the Tora.] pointed smilingly to the palm-leaves therein with it.
"This," he said to the disciple, "was the ever-blessed Schem
Hamphorasch itself, if he had not already believed his words."

Meanwhile the aforesaid Meir, the rabbi's servant, crept forth
from under the women's gallery, and spake--"Now may ye stick two
Christian dogs dead, who are hiding here to steal the blessed
golden treasure from my master the rabbi: the clock has struck
eleven, and the Christian swine are snoring in all quarters of the
city. Up to the women's gallery! up to the women's gallery! There
they sit! Their six ducats I have safe: kill the dumb
uncircumcised dogs! strike them dead! For a ducat I will fling
them into the Oder. Come, come! here are knives! here are knives."

When the Duke and Doctor Joel heard all this, and saw all through
the little bulls'-eyes, they jumped up and clattered down the
stairs, the Duke drawing his dagger, which by good luck he had
brought with him. But the Jews are already on them, and the rabbi
strikes the Duke on the face with the golden jad, screaming--

"Accursed dog! there is one golden blow for thee, and a second
golden blow for thee, and a third golden blow for thee; put them
out to interest, and thou wilt have enough to buy the Schem
Hamphorasch." And the others fell upon the doctor, beating him
till their fists were bloody, and sticking him with their knives.
So my <i>magister</i> roared, "Oh, gracious lord! tell your name,
I beseech you, or in truth they will murder us--they will beat us
to death!"

But the Duke had hit the rabbi such a blow with his dagger across
the hand, that the golden jad fell to the ground, and the Duke,
leaning his back against a pillar, hewed right and left, and kept
them all at bay.

But this did not help, for the traitor knave, Meir, creeping along
on his knees, got hold of the Duke's foot, and lifting it up
suddenly in the air, made him lose his balance, and my gracious
Prince stumbled forward, and the dagger fell far from his hand,
upon which he cried out, "Listen, ye cursed Jewish brood! I am
your Prince, the Duke of Pomerania! My brother shall make ye pay
for this: your flesh shall be torn from the bones, and flung to
dogs by to-morrow, if you do not instantly give free passage to me
and my attendant." Then taking his signet from his finger, he held
it up, and cried, "Look here, ye cursed brood; here are my
arms--the ducal Pomeranian arms--behold! behold!"

At this hearing, the rabbi turned as pale as chalk, and all the
others started back from Dr. Joel, trembling with terror, while
the Duke continued--"We came not here to steal the Schem
Hamphorasch, as your traitor knave has given out, but to hear your
accursed Satan's crew with our own ears, which also we have done."

"Oh, your Highness," cried the rabbi, "it was a jest--all a mere
innocent jest. The accursed knave is guilty of all. Come, gracious
Prince, I will unbar the door; it was a jest--may I perish if it
was anything more than a merry jest, all this you have heard."

And scarcely had the door been closed upon the Duke and Dr. Joel,
when they heard the Jews inside falling upon the traitorous knave
and beating him till he roared for pain, as if in truth they had
stuck him on a pike. But they cared little what became of him, and
hastened back with all speed to the ducal residence.




CHAPTER XIV.

<i>How the Duke Francis seeks a virgin at Marienfliess to cite the
angel Och for him--Of Sidonia's evil plot thereupon, and the
terrible uproar caused thereby in the convent.</i>


After his Highness found that to obtain the Schem Hamphorasch was
an impossible thing, he resolved to seek throughout all Pomerania
for a pure and brave-hearted virgin, by whose aid he could break
Sidonia's demon spells, and preserve his whole princely race from
fearful and certain destruction. He therefore addressed a circular
to all the abbesses, conjecturing that if such a virgin were to be
found, it could only be in a cloister; and this was the letter:--

"FRANCISCUS, BY THE GRACE OF GOD, DUKE OF POMERANIA, STETTIN,
CASSUBEN, AND WENDEN, BISHOP OF CAMYN, PRINCE OP RUGEN, COUNT OF
GUTZKOW, LORD OF THE LANDS OF LAUENBURG AND BUTOW, &C.

"WORTHY ABBESS, TRUSTY AND GOOD FRIEND,--Be it known to you that
we have immediate need of the services of a pure virgin--but in
all honour--and are diligently seeking for such throughout our
ducal and ecclesiastical states; but understand, not alone a
virgin in act--for they can be met with in every house--but a
virgin in soul, pure in thought and word, for by her agency we
mean to build up a holy and virtuous work; as Gregory Nyssensis
says (<i>De Virginitate</i>, Opp. tom. ii. fol. 593):--'Virginity
must be the fundamentum upon which all virtue is built up, then
are the works of virtue noble and holy; but virginity, which is
only of the form, and exists not in the soul, is nothing but a
jewel of gold in a swine's snout, or a pearl which is trodden
under foot of swine.'

"Further, the said virgin must be of a brave, steadfast, and
man-like spirit, who fears nothing, and can defy death and the
devil, if need be.

"If ye have such a virgin, upon whom, with God's help, I can build
up my great virtuous work, send her to our court without delay,
and know that we shall watch over such virgin with all princely
goodness and clemency; but know also, that if on trial such virgin
is not found pure in thought and word, great danger is in store
for her, perchance even death.

"Signatum Camyn, 1st September 1617.

"FRANCISCUS, <i>manu sua</i>.

"<i>Postscriptum.</i>--Are the winter gloves ready? Forget not to
send them with the beer-waggon; my canons esteem them highly."

When this letter reached the abbess of Marienfliess by the
beer-waggon of the honourable chapter of Camyn, she was much
troubled as to how she ought to proceed. Truly there were two
young novices lately arrived, of about fifteen or sixteen, named
Anna Holborne and Catharina Maria von Wedel. These the abbess
thought would assuredly suit his Highness--<i>item</i>, they were
of a wonderful brave spirit, and had gone down at night to the
church to chase away the martens, though they bit them cruelly,
because they prevented the people sleeping; and, further, never
feared any ghost-work or devil's work that might be in the church,
but laughed over it. When these same virgins, however, heard what
the abbess wanted, they excused themselves, and said they had not
courage to peril their lives, though in truth they were pure
virgins in thought and word. But they could not hold their tongue
quiet, but must needs blab (alas, woe!) to Anna Apenborg, who runs
off instantly to the refectory to Sidonia, whom she had appeased
by means of some sausages, and tells her the whole story, and of
his Grace's wonderful letter.

So my hag laughed--never suspecting that she was the cause of
all--and said, "She would soon make out if such a virgin were to
be found in the convent; but would Anna promise secrecy?" And when
the other asseverated that she would be as silent as a stone in
the earth, my hag continued--

"I have got a receipt from that learned man, Albertus Magnus--his
book upon women--and we shall try it upon the nuns; but thou must
hold thy tongue, Anna."

"Oh, she would sooner have her tongue cut out than blab a word;
but what was the receipt?"

Here Sidonia answered, "She would soon see. She would give the
sisterhood a little of her fine beer to drink, with some of it
therein; and as she had got fresh sausages, and other good things
in plenty by her, she would pray the abbess and the whole convent
to dine with her on the following Monday; then the dear sister
should see wonders."

And in truth my hag was so shameless, that on Sunday, after
church, she prayed all the virgins, saying, "Would the dear
sisters eat their mid-day meal with her next day, to show that
they forgave her, if she had ever been over-hasty? Ah, God! she
loved peace above everything; but they must each bring their own
can, for she had not cans enough for all; and her new beer was
worth tasting-a better beer had she never brewed."

<i>Summa</i>.--All the sisterhood gladly accepted her invitation,
thinking from her Christian mildness of speech in the church that
she indeed wished to be reconciled to them; <i>item</i>, the
abbess promised to come, holding that compliance brings grace, but
harshness disfavour; but here the reverse was the case.

Early on this same Monday, the waggon returned laden with beer for
the honourable chapter, and the abbess despatched an answer by it
to his Highness the Bishop, as follows:--

MOST REVEREND BISHOP AND ILLUSTRIOUS PRINCE, MY FRIENDLY SERVICES
TO YOUR GRACE.

"GRACIOUS LORD,--Concerning the matter of which your Highness
writes, I think there is no lack here of such virgins as you
describe, but none are of steadfast enough heart to brave the
great danger with which your Highness says they are menaced; for
we have a nature like all women, and are weak and faint-hearted.
But, methinks, there is one brave enough, and in all things pure,
who would be of the service your Grace demands--I mean Diliana
Bork, daughter of Jobst Bork of Saatzig; I counsel your Grace,
therefore, to try her.

"Now, as touching the winter gloves, I shall send some along with
this; but Sidonia will knit no gloves, and says, 'The fat canons
are like enough to old women already, without putting gloves on
them;' by which your Highness may judge of her impure mouth. God
better her.

"Your princely Grace's and my reverend Bishop's humble servant and
subject,

"MAGDELENA V. PETERSDORFIN.

"Marienfliess, 5th Sept. 1617."

Now when twelve o'clock struck, and mid-day shone on the blessed
land, all the nuns proceeded in their long black habits and white
veils to Sidonia's apartment, each with her beer-can in her hand
(woe is me! how soon they rushed back again in storm and anger).

Then they sat down to the sausages and other good morsels, while
Anna Apenborg was on tiptoe of expectation to see what would
happen; and old Wolde was there quite well again (for ill weeds
never die--no winter is cold enough for that). And she filled each
of their cans with the beer which Sidonia had brewed, after a new
formula; but, lo! no sooner had they tasted it than first Dorothea
Stettin starts up, and Sidonia asks what ails her.

To which she answers: "She is not superstitious, but there was
surely something wrong in the beer. She felt quite strange." And
she left the room, then another, and another--in fine, all who had
tasted the beer started up in like manner and followed Dorothea.
Only the abbess and some others who had not partaken of it
remained. Anna Apenborg had disappeared amongst the first, and
presently a terrific cry was heard from the courtyard, as if not
alone the cloister, but the whole world was in flames. Curses,
cries, menaces, threats, screams, all mingled together, and shouts
of "Run for a broomstick! the accursed witch! the evil hag! let us
punish her for this!"

Whereupon the abbess jumps up, flings open the window, and beholds
Dorothea Stettin so changed in mien, voice, gestures--in fine, in
her whole being--that she was hardly to be recognised. She looks
black and blue in the face, has her fists clenched, stamps with
her feet, and screams.

"For God's sake! what ails you, Dorothea?" asked the alarmed
abbess. But no answer can she hear; for all the virgins scream,
roar, howl, and curse in one grand chorus, as if indeed the last
day itself were come. So she runs down the steps as quick as she
can, while Sidonia looks out at the window, and laughing, said,
"Eh, dear sisters, this is a strange pastime you have got; better
come up quickly, or the pudding will be cold."

At this the screeching and howling were redoubled, and Dorothea
spat up at the window, and another flung up a broomstick, so that
my hag got a bloody nose, and drew in her head screaming now
likewise.

Then they all wanted to rush up into the refectory, each armed
with a broomstick to punish Sidonia, and they would not heed the
abbess, who still vainly asked what had angered them? but the
other sisters who were descending met them half way, and prevented
their ascent; whereupon the abbess raised her voice and called out
loud: "Whoever does not return instantly at my command as abbess,
shall be imprisoned forthwith, and condemned to bread and water
for a whole day! <i>Item</i>, whoever speaks until I address her,
shall be kept half-a-day on bread and water. Now Dorothea,
speak--you alone, and let every one of you descend the steps and
return here to the courtyard." This menace availed at last, and
with many sobs and groans, Dorothea at last told of Sidonia's
horrible plot, as Anna Apenborg had explained to them. How she had
invited them on purpose to disgrace them for ever in the eyes of
the Prince and of the whole world, and the abbess could now judge
herself, if they had not a right to be angry. But she must have
her sub-prioret back again, out of which the scandalous witch had
tricked her, and the abbess must forthwith despatch a messenger to
his Highness, praying him to chase this unclean beast out of the
convent, and into the streets again, from which they had taken
her; for neither God nor man had peace or rest from her.

Sidonia overhearing this from the window, stretched out her grey
head again, wiped away with her hand the blood that was streaming
from her nose, and then menacing the abbess with her bloody fist,
screamed out, "Write if you dare! write if you dare!" So the
curses, howls, yells, screeches, all break loose again; some pitch
their shoes up at the windows, others let fly the broomsticks at
the old hag, and Dorothea cried out, "Let all pure and honourable
virgins follow me!" Yet still a great many of the sisters gathered
round the abbess, weeping and wringing their hands, and praying
for peace, declaring they would not leave her; but all the younger
nuns, particularly they who had drunk of Sidonia's accursed beer,
followed the sub-prioress, and as the discontented Roman people
withdrew once to the Aventine mount, so the cloister malcontents
withdrew to the Muhlenberg, howling and sobbing, and casting
themselves on the ground from despair. In vain the abbess ran
after them, conjuring them not to expose themselves before God and
man: it was all useless, my virgins screamed in chorus--"No, that
they would never do, but to the cloister they would not return
till the princely answer arrived, expelling the dragon for ever.
Let what would become of them, they would not return. The jewel of
their honour was dearer to them than life."

Now Sidonia was watching all this from her window, and as she
justly feared that now in earnest the wrath and anger of the two
Princes would fall on her, she goes straight to the abbess, who
sits in her cell weeping and wringing her hands, menaces her again
with her bloody fist, and says, "Will you write? will you write?
ay, you may, but you will never live to hear the answer!" Upon
which, murmuring to herself, she left the chamber. What can the
poor abbess do? And the cry now comes to her, that not only the
miller and his men, but half the town likewise, are gathered round
the virgins. Oh, what a scandal! She wrings her hands in prayer to
God, and at last resolves to lay down her poor life, so that she
may fulfil her hard duty bravely as beseems her, goes then
straight to the Muhlenberg and arranges the evil business
thus:--Let the virgins return instantly to the cloister, and she
would herself write to the Duke, and despatch the messenger this
very night. But she begged for just two hours to herself, that she
might make her will, and send for the sheriff's secretary to draw
it up properly; also to search for her shroud which lay in her
chest. For since her cruel children demanded her life, she would
give it to them. The Duke's answer she would never live to hear.
So Sidonia had prophesied just now.

Then she descended the hill, chanting that beautiful hymn of Dr.
Nicolai's, while the virgins followed, and some lifted up their
weeping voices in unison with hers:--

    'Awake! the watchers on the tower
 Chant aloud the midnight hour;
  Awake, thou bride Jerusalem!
 Through the city's gloomy porches
  See the flashing bridal torches;
    Awake, thou bride Jerusalem!
  Come forth, come forth, ye virgin choir,
  Light your lamps with altar fire!
    Hallelujah! in His pride
    Comes the Bridegroom to His bride;
      Awake, thou fair Jerusalem!

    Zion heard the watchers singing,
  From her couch in beauty springing,
    She wakes, and hastens joyful out.
  Lo! He comes in heavenly beauty,
  Strong in love, in grace, in duty;
    Now her heart is free from doubt.
  Light and glory flash before Him,
  Heaven's star is shining o'er Him,
    On His brow the kingly crown,
    For the Bridegroom is THE SON.
    Hallelujah! follow all
    To the heavenly bridal-hall,
    There the Lamb holds festival!'

But behold, as they reached the convent gates, chanting their
heavenly melody, there stood the demon-witch, dancing and singing
her hellish melody--

   "Also kleien und also kratzen,
   Meine Hunde und meine Katzen."

And old Wolde and the cat, in his little red stockings, danced
right and left beside her.

At this horrible sight the poor virgins scampered off hither and
thither to their cells, like doves flying to their nests, without
uttering a word, only the abbess exclaimed--"But two hours, my
children, in the church!" Whereupon she goes, makes her will, and
prepares her shroud. <i>Item</i>, sends for the dairy-mother,
gives her the shroud. <i>Item</i>, a sack of moss and hops to make
a pillow for her coffin, for such she would like her poor corpse
to have. Then sends for the convent carpenter, and makes him take
her measure for a coffin; and, lastly, strengthened in God, goes
to the church to write her own death-warrant, namely, the letter
to his Highness. Yet many of the virgins, for fear of Sidonia,
refused to affix their signatures thereto, among whom was Anna
Apenborg, who, as soon as she left the church, ran up to the
refectory to chatter over the whole business with Sidonia.
<i>Item</i>, how the new convent-porter was to be sent that same
midnight with the letter to his Highness.

So Sidonia began now to scold, because Anna could not hold her
tongue, and had betrayed her secret to the sisters. But the other
said--

"She thought it was all a pure jest, and had told them for fun,
that they might have a good laugh together; for how could she know
that they would all grow raging mad like that!"

So my hag forgave her, and bid her sit down and eat some sausage
for her supper, in return for the news she had brought her.
Meanwhile, she would write a letter to his Highness likewise, and
Anna should give it to the convent-porter, to take with him along
with that of the abbess. This was the letter:--

"SERENE PRINCE AND GRACIOUS LORD,--

"Now will your Highness perceive, by this writing, how faithful
and true a servant I am to your princely house, though the godless
world has raised up an evil cry against me in your Highness's
ears. Gracious Prince, the reverend Lord Bishop wrote to our
worthy abbess of Marienfliess, bidding her seek out for him a
virgin, pure in thought, word, and deed, by whose help he might
perform some great virtue-work. Now, the abbess confided her
perplexities on the matter to me, as sub-prioress; whereupon I
said, 'That to serve your Highness, I would show whether such a
virgin were in the convent, but she must keep silence;' this she
promised. Whereon I brewed a drink, according to Albertus
Magnus--it is at the 95th page--and bade them all to dinner, when
I secretly put the drink into some of my best beer. Now Albertus
states that the drink will have no effect on a pure virgin, only
on the reverse. Your Highness, therefore, may judge what sort of
sisterhood we have, when, no sooner had they drank, than almost
all rose up raging mad, and rushed out of the convent into the
courtyard, where such a <i>scandalum</i> arose--screams, curses,
yells, and shrieks, that your Grace may surely judge no honourable
virgin was to be found amongst them. In fact, the worthy abbess, a
few others, and I myself, were the only persons who remained
unaffected by the draught. Therefore, I counsel our gracious
Bishop to select one from amongst us, for his great virtue-work.
I, indeed, have the strongest heart of all, and the bravest
courage.

"But, assuredly, the worst of all these light wantons was Dorothea
Stettin, from whom I received the sub-prioret, because, as your
Grace heard, she held unchaste discourse during her illness, and,
therefore, is as much suited to be sub-prioress as a jewel of gold
to a swine's snout. She, therefore, drew off all the other raging
wantons to the Muhlenberg, declaring that they would not return
until I, who had done this great service to my Lord Bishop, was
turned out into the streets. Then the lewd common folk gathered
round the sisters on the hill, who betrayed their own evil case,
methinks, by their rage, and mocked and jeered them, till the
abbess herself had to go forth and entreat them to return; but
they despised her, and the sheriff must needs gallop up with his
horsewhip, and whip them before him, but in vain; the evil is too
strong in them. They still said, that I, unfortunate maiden, 'must
be accused to your Highness of all this scandal,' for the silly
abbess had betrayed what I had done; 'and that till I was turned
out of the convent, they would not come back.' Now the poor abbess
fell sick at such base contempt and insult to her authority, and,
feeling her end near, she made her will, and took out the shroud
from her trunk, and had the carpenter to measure her for her
coffin, and at last consented to write to your Grace, because by
no other means would these evil wantons be satisfied, or the great
scandal and disgrace to the convent be averted. But, I think, if
your Grace would write her a private letter, she would change her
opinion (Ah, yes, the hag means her to receive it!) and make a far
different resolve when your Grace sees how true and faithful I
have acted as,

"Your Highness's most humble maiden,

"SIDONIA BORK,

"Otto Bork's only and unfortunate orphan.

"Marienfliess, 6th Sept. 1617.

"P.S.--If she dies, I pray your Grace to hold me in your
remembrance."




CHAPTER XV.

<i>Of the death of the abbess, Magdalena von Petersdorfin--Item,
how Duke Francis makes Jobst Bork and his daughter, Diliana, come
to Camyn, and what happens there.</i>


Now the messenger had hardly departed, when Sidonia arranged her
food for three days, laid two new brooms crosswise under the
table; <i>item</i>, had her bath carried up by old Wolde from the
kitchen to the refectory, and lastly, locked herself up, giving
out that she must and will pray to God to pardon her fallen
sisters for all their sins, and that up to Friday night no one
should disturb her.

<i>Summa</i>.-The unfortunate abbess ascertained, but too well,
that same night, what such praying betokened. She screamed out,
like all the others, that it seemed as if a miner was in her
breast, and hammered there, striving to raise up the bones; and
the good dairy-mother, a pious and tender-hearted creature, not
very old either, never left her side during all her martyrdom. For
three days and three nights she took no rest, but watched by the
sick abbess; lifting her from the bed to the cold floor, and from
the cold floor to the bed, and refused a piece of gold the abbess
offered for her trouble, begging it might be given to Lisa
Behlken, a little gipsy maiden, whose thievish and heathenish
parents had left her behind them in the town, but who had been
taken in and sheltered by the poor widow, though she had enough to
do to get her living alone.

<i>Summa</i>.--On the Friday night the worthy abbess expired in
horrible tortures; and, in consequence, such a fear and horror
fell upon the whole convent, that they trembled and shook like
aspen leaves, and bitterly repented now of their folly with loud
cries and weeping, in having, with their own hands, helped to cast
down their only stay and support.

So, next morning, Sidonia summoned the whole chapter to her
apartment, drew herself up like a black adder, as she was, menaced
them with her dry fists, and spake--

"See now, ye shameless wantons, what ye have done! Ye have
murdered the worthy abbess, though she told you herself, it would
be her death if ye came not down from the Muhlenberg; giving up
your honour and the honour of our convent, ye vile crew, as a prey
to the malicious world. In vain have I cried to God three days and
three nights for pardon for your heavy sins, and for support for
our dear mother; your sins are an offence to the Lord, and He
would not hearken to me. For this morning I hear, to my great
terror, that the good abbess, just as I feared, has been done to
death by your vile obduracy and disobedience."

As the blasphemous devil thus went on, all were silent round her.
Even Dorothea Stettin had not a word--for, though her wrath was
great, her fear was yet greater. Only Anna Apenborg, who had her
eyes always about, cried out--"See there, dear sisters, there
comes the porter back from Old Stettin. Ah, that he should find
our good mother in her coffin, as she prophesied!"

So Sidonia despatches a sister for the princely letter, and bids
the others remain; and when the letter is brought, Sidonia breaks
the seal, runs over the contents to herself, laughs, and then
says, at last--

"Listen to the message his Grace sends to our, alas! now dead
mother, as a kind and just father!" Reads--

"HONOURABLE MOTHER, WORTHY ABBESS,--

"As our serene and gracious Prince is just setting off to hunt
with the illustrious patricio, Philip Heinhofer of Augsburg, his
Grace bids me say that he will visit the convent himself next
month on his way to New Stettin, to advise with you, and
investigate, in person, this evil business with the sisterhood. As
to Sidonia, he reserves a different treatment for her.

"Your good son and friend, "FRANCISCA BLODOW," Ducal Secretary.

"Old Stettin, 8th Sept. 1617."

Hereupon she stuck the letter in her pocket, clapped her hand over
it, and continued--

"That is what I call a just, good father; and if I had not
interposed with Christian charity, who knows what heaps of vile,
shameless wantons might not be cast forth upon the streets. But I
remember the words of my heavenly Bridegroom--'Forgive, and it
shall be forgiven you!' And now to end, good sisters, since our
worthy mother is no more, we must have a ruler over this
uproarious convent. Therefore, let us proceed at once to elect her
successor from amongst ourselves, that so our gracious Prince may
be able to confirm your choice on his arrival next month. Proceed,
then, since ye are all assembled here, that the convent may know
in whom it may place confidence. Speak, Anna Apenborg, whom dost
thou name for an abbess, my much-loved sister?"

With Sidonia's sausage still in her stomach, what else could she
do, but bow and say--

"I think no one so worthy as our good sister Sidonia."

Hereat laughed my hag, and went on to ask the other virgins; and
all those who had not been affected by the hellish drink cried out
"Sidonia!" while those who had been were afraid to dissent, and so
cried out too for her. In fine, "Sidonia! Sidonia!" was heard from
all lips, and so they took her for their abbess, whom but a few
days before they would have flung out into the streets. Even
Dorothea Stettin consented, on condition that she received back
the sub-prioret. Whereupon Sidonia loosed her veil with the one
golden key, and restored it to Dorothea with the Judas kiss; then
bid her fetch the veil of the abbess with the two golden keys, for
this was an heirloom in the cloister. When it arrived, Sidonia
goes to her trunk, and takes out a large regal cape that looked
like ermine, but was only white cat's skin. She hung this upon her
neck, and exclaimed--

"Hitherto I was lady of castles and lands--now, as abbess, I am of
princely rank, for many princesses were abbesses in the time of
the Papacy; therefore, it is meet that I array myself as a
princess, and I command ye all to treat me as a princess, and
honour me as your abbess, and kiss my hand, which is the proper,
due, and fitting reverence to be paid to my rank. The late worthy
matron, indeed, suffered ye to treat her with little respect, and
your late vile contempt of her on the Muhlenberg shows (God be
good to us!) but too well what fruit her neglect of these things
brought forth."

Truly the pride of this hag was equal to her wickedness; for mark,
already for a year and a day before this, she had made the
convent-porter and others bring her white cats and black cats;
these she killed and skinned, and sewed the black cats' tails on
the white skins, to make a show withal, for ermine skin was above
her price, I am thinking. Yet no one knew wherefore she killed the
cats, and for what cause. Now it all came to light.

No doubt these circumstances gave rise to that error which runs
through the Pomeranian cotemporary authors, who assert all of
them, that Sidonia was abbess of Marienfliess--though, in truth,
she never was duly elected. [Footnote: Cramer and Mikraelius make
the same mistake.]

But let us return now to his Highness, Bishop Francis. He sent to
Jobst Bork, bidding him come instantly to Camyn with his little
daughter, Diliana. They knew nothing of his Grace's purpose, but
were soon informed on entering the episcopal palace. For, after
his Highness, with whom was Doctor Joel, desired them to be
seated, the Doctor placed Diliana upon a stool, close to the
window, beside which my magister had hung up a magic screen on
purpose; and, as the blessed sun poured in through the window,
Diliana's beautiful, delicate form was shadowed forth upon the
pure white linen with which it was covered. Whereupon the magister
bent down, stuck his hands on his fat sides, knit his brows, and
contemplated the image steadily for some time; then, starting up,
gave a loud huzzah, and cried out--

"Gracious Prince, we have found it, we have found it! Here is a
pure virgin. I know by the formation of the shadows along the
virgin-linen that she is pure as the sun-angel--as the ascending
morning dew."

Here Jobst Bork shook his head, and the maiden blushed to her
finger-ends, and looked down ashamed in her lap. Then his Grace
said, laughing--

"Do not wonder at our joy, for the destiny of our whole race, good
Jobst, lies now in you and your daughter's hands. Through the
witchcraft of Sidonia Bork, as ye know, and all the world
testifies, our ancient race has been melted away till but a few
dry twigs remain, and no young eyes look up to us when our old
eyes are failing. But what Sidonia Bork has destroyed, Diliana
Bork, by God's help, can restore. For, mark! after all human help
had been found of no avail, this man whom ye see here, a
<i>magister artium</i> of Grypswald, Joel by name, inquired of the
spirits how the great evil could be turned away from our race; but
they declared that none knew except the sun-angel, because he saw
all that passed upon the earth. This angel, however, being the
greatest of all spirits, will not appear unless a brave and pure
virgin--pure in thought, word, and work--stand within the magic
circle; therefore, we have sent for your daughter, hearing that
she was such an one, and the magister hath proved the truth of the
report even now. It rests with you, therefore, much-prized
Diliana, sister to the angels in purity, and last and only hope of
my perishing race, to save them at my earnest petition."

When he ended, Diliana remained quite silent, but Jobst wriggled
on his chair, and at last spake--

"Serene Prince, you know me for the most obedient of your
subjects, but with the devil's work I will have nothing to do;
besides, I see not why you must trouble spirits about my evil
cousin, the sorceress of Marienfliess. Send to my castellan of
Pansin, George Putkammer, he will thrust her in a sack to-night,
and carry her to-morrow to Camyn--<i>that</i> you may believe, my
Lord Duke!"

Then he related what the brave knight had done, and how Sidonia
had in truth left him in peace ever since, all through fear of the
young knight's good sword. His Grace wondered much at this. "Never
could I have believed that so stouthearted a man was to be found
in all Pomerania--one that would dare to touch this notorious
witch."

And he fell into deep musing, keeping his eyes upon Jobst's
jack-boots, in which he had stuck a great hunting-knife. At last
he spake--"But if I seize her and burn her, will it be better with
our race? I trow not; for she can leave the evil spell on us,
perhaps, even if she were a hundred times burned. Her magic hath
great power. Will burning her break the spell? No; we must act
more cunningly with the dragon. Earth cannot help us in this. And
here you see, Jobst, why I demand your daughter's help to conjure
the angels of God."

"Then seek another virgin, my Prince," answered Jobst, "mine you
shall never have. I have been once in the devil's claws, and I
won't thrust myself into them again--much less my only darling
child, whom I love a thousand times better than my life. No, no,
her body and soul shall never be endangered by my consent."

"But where is the danger?" said the Duke. "It is with an angel,
not a devil, your daughter is to speak; and surely no evil, then,
could happen to our dear and chaste little sister?"

At last Diliana exclaimed eagerly, "Ah; can it be possible to
speak with the blessed angels, as the evil women speak with the
devil? In truth, I would like to see an angel."

At this the Duke looked significantly at the magister, who
immediately advanced, and began to explain the <i>opus magicum et
theurgicum</i> to the maiden, as follows:--

"You know, fair young virgin, that our Saviour saith of the
innocent children, 'Their angels always see the face of My Father
which is in heaven' (Matt xviii.). <i>Item/<i>, St. Paul (Heb.
i.): 'Are not the angels ministering spirits, sent forth for the
service of those who are heirs of salvation?' This is no new
doctrine, but one as old as the world. For you know, further, that
Adam, Noah, the holy patriarchs, the prophets, &c., talked with
angels, because their faith was great. <i>Item</i>, you know that,
even in the New Testament, angels were stated to have appeared and
talked with men; but later still, during the papal times even, the
angels of God appeared to divers persons, as was well known, and
of their own free will. For they did not always appear of <i>free
will</i>; and therefore, from the beginning, conjurations were
employed to <i>compel/<i> them, and fragments of these have come
down to us <i>ex traditione</i>, as we magistri say, from the time
of Shem, the son of Noah, who revealed them to his son Misraim;
and so, from son to son, they have reached to our day, and are
still powerful."

"But," spake Diliana, "is it then possible for man to compel
angels?"

<i>Ille</i>.-"Yes, by three different modes; first, through the
word, or the intellectual vinculum; secondly, through the heavenly
bodies, or the astral vinculum; lastly, through the earthly
creatures, or the elementary vinculum.

"Respecting first the <i>word</i>, you know that all things were
made by it, and without it was nothing made that is made. With God
the Lord, therefore, <i>word</i> and <i>thing</i> are one and the
same; for when He speaks it is done; He commands, and it stands
there. Also, with our father, Adam, was the <i>word</i>
all-powerful; for he ruled over all beasts of the field, and
birds, and creeping things by the <i>name</i> which he gave unto
them, that is, by the <i>word</i> (Gen. ii.). This power, too, the
word of Noah possessed, and by it he drew the beasts into the ark
(Gen. vii.); for we do not read that he <i>drave</i> them, which
would be necessary now, but they <i>went</i> into the ark after
him, two and two, <i>i.e.</i>, compelled by the power of his word.
" Next follows the <i>astral vinculum, i.e.</i>, the sympathy
between us and those heavenly bodies or stars wherein the angels
dwell or rule. We must know their divers aspects, configurations,
risings, settings, and the like, also the precise time, hour, and
minute in which they exercise an influence over angel, man, and
lower creatures, according as the ancients, and particularly the
Chaldeans have taught us; for spirit cannot influence spirit at
every moment, but only at particular times and under particular
circumstances.

"Lastly comes the <i>elementary vinculum<i>, or the sympathy which
binds all earthly creatures together--men, animals, plants,
stones, vapours and exhalations, &c., but above all, this
cementing sympathy is strongest in pure virgins, as you,
much-praised Diliana----"

Hereupon she spake surprised: "How can all this be? Is it not
folly to suppose that the blessed angels could be compelled by
influences from plants and stones?"

"It is no folly, dear maiden, but a great and profound truth,
which I will demonstrate to you briefly. Everything throughout the
universe is effected by two opposing forces, <i>attraction</i> or
sympathy, <i>repulsion</i> or antipathy. All things in heaven as
well as upon earth act on each other by means of these two
forces."

"And as all within, above, beneath, in the heaven and on the
earth, are types insensibly repeated of one grand archetype, so we
find that the sun himself is a magnet, and by his different poles
repels or attracts the planets, and amongst them our earth; in
winter he repels her, and she moves darkly and mournfully along;
in spring he begins to draw her towards him, and she comes
joyfully, amidst songs of the holy angels, out of night and
darkness, like a bride into the arms of her beloved. And though no
ear upon earth can mark this song, yet the sympathies of each
creature are attracted and excited thereby, and man, beast, bird,
fish, tree, flower, grass, stones, all exhale forth their
subtlest, most spiritual, sweetest life to blend with the holy
singers.

"O maiden, maiden, this is no folly! Truly might we say that each
thing feels, for each thing loves and hates--the animate as the
inanimate, the earthly as the heavenly, the visible as the
invisible. For what is love but attraction or sympathy towards
some object, whereby we desire to blend with it? And what is hate
but repulsion or antipathy, whereby we are forced to fly or recoil
from it?

"We, silly men, tear and tatter to pieces the rude coarse
<i>materia</i> of things, and think we know the nature of an
object, because, like a child with a mirror, we break it to find
the image. But the life of the thing--the inner, hidden mystic
life of <i>sympathies</i>--of this we know nothing, and yet we
call ourselves wise!

"But what is the signification of this widespread law of love and
hate which rules the universe as far as we know? Nothing else than
the dark signature of <i>faith</i> impressed upon every creature.
For what the thing loves, that is its God; and what the thing
hates, that is its devil. So when the upright and perfect soul
ascends to God, the source of all attraction, God descends to it
in sympathy, and blends with it, as Christ says, 'Whoso loves Me,
and keeps My word, My Father will love him, and we will come and
take up our abode with him.' But if the perverted soul descends to
the source of all repulsion, which is the devil, God will turn
away from him, and he will hate God and love the devil, as our
blessed Saviour says (Matt. vi.), 'No man can serve two masters,
he will <i>hate</i> one and <i>love</i> the other; ye cannot serve
God and the devil.' Such will be the law of the universe until the
desire of all creatures is fulfilled, until the living Word again
descends from heaven, and says, 'Let there be light!' and the new
light will fall upon the soul. Then will the old serpent be cast
out of the new heaven and the new earth. Hate and repulsion will
exist no longer, but as Esaias saith, 'The wolf and the lamb, the
leopard and the kid, will lie down together, and the child may
play fearlessly upon the den of the adder.' Hallelujah! Then will
creation be free! then will it pass from the bondage of corruption
into the lordly freedom of the children of God (Rom. viii.), and

                   Sun,
               Moon, stars,
            Earth, angels, men,
           Beasts, plants, stones,
           The living as the dead,
           The great as the small,
          The visible as the invisible,
              Will find at last
          The source of all attraction
    Which they have ever ardently desired--
      Round which they will ever circle
        Day on day, night on night,
Century on century, millennium on millennium,
      Lost in the infinite and eternal abyss
                Of all love--
                   GOD!"

 [Footnote: Almost with the last words of this sketch, the second
part of <i>Kosmos</i>, by Alexander von Humboldt, came to my hand.
Evidently the great author (who so well deserves immortality for
his contributions to science) views the world also as a whole; and
wherever in ancient or modern times, even a glimpse of this
doctrine can be found, he quotes it and brings it to light. But
yet, in a most incomprehensible manner, he has passed over those
very systems in which, above all others, this idea finds ample
room; namely, the new platonism of the ancients (the Theurgic
Philosophy), and the later Cabalistic, Alchymical, Mystic
Philosophy (White Magic), from which system the deductions of
Magister Joel are borrowed; but above all, we must name
<i>Plotinus</i>, as the father of the new Platonists, to whom
nature is throughout but one vast unity, one divine totality, one
power united with one life. In later times, we find that Albertus
Magnus, Cornelius Agrippa, and Theophrastus Paracelsus held the
same view. The latter uses the above word "attraction" in the
sense of sympathy. And the systems of these philosophers, which
are in many places full of profound truths, are based upon this
idea.]




CHAPTER XVI.

<i>Jobst Bork takes away his daughter by force from the Duke and
Dr. Joel; also is strengthened in his unbelief by Dr.
Cramer--Item, how my gracious Prince arrives at Marienfliess, and
there vehemently menaces Sidonia.</i>


When Dr. Joel had ended his discourse, the fair young virgin's
eyes overflowed with tears; and clasping her hands, she sprang up,
and seizing my magister by the hand, exclaimed, "O sir, let us see
the blessed angels! Let me talk with them."

But her father, who was dry and brief in speech, tore her away,
saying sourly, "Have done, child; you must not dare to do it!"
Then they all prayed him to consent--the Duke, and the magister,
and Diliana herself; and the magister said, that in a few days the
sun would be in Libra, which would be the fitting and best time;
if they delayed, then a whole year must pass over without
obtaining any help, for he had already demonstrated that each
spirit had its particular time of influence. And so my magister
went on. But all was in vain. So Diliana stroked her father's
beard with her little hands and said, "Think, dear papa, on
grandmamma--her poor ghost; and that I can avenge her if I keep my
virgin honour pure in thought, word, and deed! Is it not strange
that my gracious Prince should just now come and demand the proof
of my purity? Let me pass the trial, and then I can avenge the
poor ghost, and calm the fears of his Highness all at once; for
assuredly he has cause to fear Sidonia." So the Duke and Magister
Joel inquired eagerly what she meant by the ghost; and when they
heard, they rejoiced, and said the finger of God was in it. "Would
the knight still strive against God?"

"No," he answered, "but against the devil; for Luther says, 'Such
ghost-work must be of the devil, since the departed soul must
either be in heaven or in hell; if in heaven, it would have rest,'
therefore he feared the ghost of his poor mother had nothing good
about it, and he would take care and keep his child from the claws
of the devil."

Thus the argument and strife went on, till Jobst at last cried out
sharply, "Diliana, dost thou esteem the fifth commandment? If so,
come with me." Whereupon the pious virgin threw herself upon his
neck, exclaiming, "Father, I come!"

But my magister took her by the hand, to draw her from her father,
whereat Jobst seized the hunting-knife that he had stuck in his
jack-boots, and brandishing it, cried out, "Hands off, fellow, or
I'll paint a red sign upon thee! My Lord Duke, in the name of the
three devils, seek out another virgin; but my virgin, your
Highness shall never have." Then seizing his little daughter by
the waist, he rushed out of the room with her, growling like a
bear with his cub, and down the stairs, and through the streets,
never stopping or staying till he reached the inn, nor even once
looking behind him or heeding his Grace, who screamed out after
him, "Good Jobst, only one word; only one word, dear Jobst!"

And when my Jobst reached the inn, he roared for the coachman, bid
him follow him with all speed to the road, paid down his reckoning
to mine host, and was off, and already out of the town, just as
the Duke and Dr. Joel reached the inn, to try and get him back
again. So they return raging and swearing, while Jobst crouches
down behind a thorn-bush with his little daughter, till the coach
comes up. And they have scarcely mounted it, when Dr. Cramer, of
Old Stettin, drives up; for he was on his way to induct a rector
(I know not whom) into his parish, as the ecclesiastical
superintendent lay sick in his bed. This meeting rejoiced the
knight's heart mightily; and after he had peered out of the coach
windows, to see if the Duke or the doctor were on his track, and
making sure that he was not pursued, he prayed Dr. Cramer to bide
a while, and discourse him on a matter that lay heavy on his
conscience. The doctor having consented, they all alighted, and
seated themselves in a hollow, where the coachman could not
overhear their discourse. Then Jobst related all that had
happened, and asked had he acted rightly?

"In all things you have done well, brave knight," answered my
excellent godfather, "for though, doubtless, spirits can and do
appear, yet is there always great danger to body and soul in
practising these conjurations; and no one can say with security
whether such apparition be angel or devil; because St. Paul says
(2 Cor. xi. 14), that 'Satan often changes himself into an angel
of light;' and respecting the ghost of your mother, in my opinion,
it was a devil sent to tempt your dear little daughter; for it is
written (Wisdom xxxi.), 'The just are in the hand of God, and no
evil troubles them.'"

He is going on with his quotations, when Diliana calls out,
"Godfather, here is a coach coming as fast as it can drive; and
surely two men are therein!"

"Adieu! adieu!" cried the knight, springing up, and dragging his
daughter into the coach as quick as he could. Then he bid the
coachman drive for life and death; and when they reached the wood,
to take the first shortest cut to the left.

Meanwhile, the Duke and Dr. Joel come up with my worthy godfather,
stop him, and ask what the knight, Jobst Bork, was saying to him?
for they had seen them both together, sitting in the hollow, along
with Diliana.

On this, the dry sheep's cough got into my worthy godfather's
throat from pure fright, for a lie had never passed his lips in
all his life; therefore he told the whole story truly and
honestly.

Meanwhile, the other coach drove on rapidly through the wood; and
the coachman did as he was desired, and took the first path to the
left, where they soon came on a fine thick hazel grove. Here Jobst
stopped to listen, and truly they could hear the other coach
distinctly crushing the fallen leaves, and the voice of the Duke
screaming, "Jobst, dost thou hear?--Jobst, may the devil take
thee, wilt thou stop?"

"Ay, my Lord Duke," thought Jobst to himself, "I will stop as you
wish, but I trust the devil will neither take me nor my daughter."
Then he lifted the fair Diliana himself out of the coach, and laid
her on the green grass, under the thick nut trees, saying, "Where
shall we fly to, my daughter? What thinkest thou?"

<i>Illa</i>.--"Why, to thy good castle of Saatzig, my father."

<i>Ille</i>.--"Marry, I'll take good care I won't--to fly from one
danger to another; for will he not hunt us there--ay, till his
spurs are red, and shouting all the way after me till his lungs
burst like an old wind-bag."

<i>Illa</i>.--"Whither, then, my father?"

<i>Ille</i>.--"To Stramehl, methinks, to my cousin Bastien, where
we shall remain until the time is passed in which he can question
the spirits; for, if I remember rightly, the sun will enter Libra
in a few days."

<i>Illa</i>.--"But, dear father, is it not cruel thus to torment
the good Prince? Oh! it must be so beautiful to talk to an angel!"

<i>Ille</i>.--"Do not anger me, my heart's daughter, do not anger
me. Better be George Putkammer's good loving wife; turn thy
thoughts that way, my daughter, and in a year there will be
something better worth looking at in the cradle than a spirit."

<i>Illa</i> blushes and plucks the nuts over her head.

<i>Ille</i>.--"What sayest thou? Art thou for ever to put off
these marriage thoughts?"

<i>Illa</i>.--"Ah! my heart's dear father, what would my poor
grandmother say in eternity? It is impossible that, without God's
will, the Duke and the poor ghost should have come upon the same
thoughts about me."

<i>Ille</i>.--"Anger me not, child; thou art a silly,
superstitious thing; without God's will, it may well be, but not
without the devil's will. Thou hast heard what Luther says of
ghosts, and we must believe him. Eh?"

<i>Illa</i>.--"But my Lord Duke and Dr. Joel say quite
differently. Ah, father, let me see the blessed angels! Dr. Joel
surely has seen them often, and yet no danger befell him."

<i>Ille</i>.--"Anger me not, daughter, I say, for the third time.
It is written, 'Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God;' and is not
this tempting Him--setting heaven and hell in an uproar all about
a wicked old hag of a witch? Wherefore is the Duke such a goose?
But I will give him no child of mine to run a race with to hell.
Now rise, child, and follow me to the coach!"

<i>Illa</i>.--"But you must make me one promise" (weeping).

<i>Ille</i>.--"What then?"

<i>Illa</i>.--"Speak no more of marriage to me till I say,
'Father, now let the marriage be.'"

<i>Ille</i>.--"With the young knight, George?"

<i>Illa</i>.-"I have no objection to offer to him; but the young
man is not to come before my eyes until then."

<i>Ille</i>.--"Ah, thou art as obstinate as the Ruegen geese! Well,
have it thy own way, child. And now to Stramehl!"

Still the Duke was hunting after them, through thick and thin, and
roaring for the knight at the top of his voice, till the wood
re-echoed; and though some squires, who came up through the
forest, declared that no carriage had passed their way, yet he
continued his chase, feeling certain that no matter what bypath
the knave had taken, yet he would assuredly come up with him at
Saatzig.

So the next day he reached the castle, for it lay but ten miles
from Camyn, but no knight was there. The Duke waited for two days,
still no sign of him. So he amused the time by fishing, and making
inquiries amongst all the neighbouring people about Sidonia, and
so strange were the tales repeated by the simple, superstitious
folk, that his Highness resolved to make a detour home by
Marienfliess, just to get a passing glimpse of this devil's
residence. Here he met a shepherd, who told many strange things,
and swore that he had seen her many times flying out of the
chimney on her broomstick; and, as the convent lay right before
them, his Grace asked which was Sidonia's chimney, and the carl
pointed out the chimney with his hand--it was the fourth from the
church there, where the smoke was rising. Whereupon my Lord Duke
shuddered, and went his way as quick as he could up the Vossberg.
He knew not that upon that very day his brother, Duke Philip, had
arrived at Marienfliess from Old Stettin, on his way to the diet
at New Stettin. The herald had been despatched by his Highness,
some days before, to inform Sheriff Eggert Sparling of his
approach, and that his Highness and suite would arrive about noon.
He was also to say the same to the nuns, particularly to Sidonia
Bork.

So at mid-day my sheriff set off to the cloister, with the steward
and the secretaries, and waited there in the nuns' courtyard for
the arrival of the Duke, and a boy was placed in the mill to wave
his cap the moment his Highness came in sight. Yet my Eggert was
suffering terrible anguish all the time in his mind, for he
thought that the Duke might bid him seize the devil's witch.

Soon the cry rose that the Duke was coming--his six coaches had
just come in sight. Then the convent gate opened, and my hag
appeared at the head of the entire sisterhood, all in their black
robes and white veils; she the same, except that she wore the
abbess veil whereon two golden keys were embroidered. <i>Item</i>,
the white cats'-skin cape, which I have noticed before, was
displayed upon her shoulders. Thus she came forth from the convent
gate with all the sisters, two and two, and she threw up her eyes,
and raised the hymn of St. Ambrose, just as the Duke and his six
coaches drove into the courtyard, and the whole convent joining,
they advanced thus singing to meet his Highness.

Now, his Highness was a meek man and seldom angry, but his brow
grew black with wrath, when Sidonia, stepping up to the coach,
bowed low, and in her cats' tippet--herself a cat in cunning and
deceit--threw up her eyes hypocritically to heaven.

"How now," cried his Grace; "who the devil hath suffered you,
Sidonia, to play the abbess over these virgins?"

To which my hag replied--

"Gracious Prince, ask these virgins here if they have not selected
me as their abbess of their own free will, and they are now come
to entreat your Highness to confirm the choice of their hearts."

"Marry," quoth the Duke, "I have heard enough of your doings from
the neighbouring nobles and others. I know well how you made the
poor abbess Magdalena bite the dust; <i>item</i>, how you forced
these poor virgins to elect you abbess through mortal and deadly
fear. Speak, dear sisters, fear nothing--I, your Prince, command
you: have ye not elected this piece of sin and vanity to be your
abbess simply through fear of your lives?"

But the virgins looked down upon the ground, were silent and
trembled, while my sheriff plunged his hand into his wide boots
for the kerchief to wipe his face, for he saw well how it would
end, and the sweat of anguish was dripping from his brow. A second
time his Grace asked--"Was it from fear?" When at last one
answered, named Agnes Kleist, not the stout Dinnies' sister, but
another--

"In truth, gracious Prince, it was from pure bodily fear alone
that we elected Sidonia as our abbess."

Her courage pleased the Duke so much that he inquired her name,
and hearing it, said--

"Ay, I thought you must be a Kleist; and now, for your truth and
courage, I make you abbess of Marienfliess; <i>item</i>, Dorothea
Stettin sub-prioress. And mark me, Sidonia Bork--it is for the
last time--if you attempt to dispute my will, or make the least
disturbance in the convent in consequence of my decision, you
shall be sent over the frontier. I have tried kindness long enough
by you--now for justice!"

"Sparling, I command you by your duty to me as your Prince, if
this evil and notorious hag should make the least disturbance or
strife in the convent, seize her that instant, either yourself or
by means of your bailiffs, and chase her over the frontiers.
<i>Item</i>, you are not to permit her to leave the convent, to
alarm or intimidate the neighbouring nobles, as she hath hitherto
done. Therefore I command the new abbess to replace the heavy
padlock on the gate from this day forth. Do you hear this,
Sidonia? These poor maidens shall have peace at last. Too long
they have been your sport and mockery, but it shall end."

So the new abbess answered--"Your Highness shall be obeyed!"

But my sheriff could not utter a word from horror, and seemed
stifling with a thick, husky cough in his throat. But when Sidonia
crept up close to him, and menaced him privately with her dry,
clenched hand, he forgot himself entirely, and made a spring that
brought him clean over the churchyard wall, while his sword
clattered after him, and his plumed beaver dropt from his head to
the ground. All the lacqueys laughed loud at the sight, even his
Grace laughed. But my sheriff makes the best of it, and calls
out--

"Ah, see, my Lord Duke, how the little boys have stolen the
flowers that I myself planted on the grave of the blessed abbess.
I'll make them pay for it, the thieving brats!"

Hereat his Grace asked why the abbess was not buried within the
church, but in the graveyard. And they answered, she had so
commanded. Whereupon he said mildly--

"The good mother is worthy of a prayer; I shall go and say a
paternoster upon her grave, and see if the youngsters have left me
a flower to carry away for memory."

So he alighted, made Eggert show him the grave, removed his hat,
and prayed, while all his suite in the six coaches uncovered their
heads likewise. Lastly, he made the sign of the cross, and bent
over the grave to pluck a flower. But just then a warm heavy wind
blew across the graves, and all the flowers drooped, faded, and
turned yellow as it passed. Yea, even a yellow stripe seemed to
mark its passage straight across all the graves over the court, up
to the spot where the thrice-accursed witch stood upon the convent
wall, and people afterwards remarked that all plants, grass,
flowers, and shrubs within that same stripe turned pale and faded,
only some poison plants, as hemlock, nightshade, and the like,
stood up green and stiff along that livid line. When the Duke
observed this, he shook his head, but made no remark, stepped
hastily, however, into his carriage, after again earnestly
admonishing Sidonia; <i>item</i>, the sheriff to remember his
commands. He ordered the procession to start, and proceeded on his
way to the Diet.

It may be easily believed that no one ventured to put the commands
of his Grace into execution; therefore, Sidonia remained abbess as
heretofore. Agnes Kleist, indeed, that same day, had the great
padlock put upon the gate; but my hag no sooner sees it than she
calls for the convent servant, saying she must go forth to drive,
then takes her hatchet, and with it hews away at the padlock,
until it falls to the ground. Whereupon, laughing scornfully, she
went her way out into the road; and the new abbess could not
remonstrate, for on Sidonia's return home (I forgot to say that,
latterly, she had gone much about amongst the neighbouring nobles,
even as his Highness observed, frightening them to death with her
visits) she shut herself up again; and Anna Apenborg soon brings
the news from Wolde, "The lady is praying;" and Anna, having
privately slid under the window, found that it was even so.

So the whole convent shuddered; but no one dared to say a word,
though each sister judged for herself what the praying betokened,
without venturing to speak her surmise. But this time she did not
pray for three days and three nights, only once in the week, when
her bath-day came; by which, people suspected that his Highness
was destined to a slower death than the other victims of her
demoniac malice.




CHAPTER XVII.

<i>Of the fearful death of his Highness, Duke Philip II. of
Pomerania, and of his melancholy but sumptuous burial.</i>


After the before-mentioned festival of the jubilee, it happened
that one day Anna Apenborg went to the brew-house, which lay
inside the convent walls (it was one of Sidonia's praying days),
and there she saw a strange apparition of a three-legged hare. She
runs and calls the other sisters; whereupon they all scamper out
of their cells, and down the steps, to see the miracle, and
behold, there sits the three-legged hare; but when Agnes Kleist
took off her slipper, and threw it at the devil's sprite, my hare
is off, and never a trace of him could be found again in the whole
brew-house or in the whole convent court. Hereat the nuns
shuddered, and each virgin has her opinion on the matter, but
speaks it not; for just then, too, comes Sidonia forth, with old
Wolde and the cat, and the three begin their devil's dance, while
the cat squalls and wails, and the old witch-hag screams her usual
hell psalm:--

   "Also kleien und also kratzen,
   Meine Hunde und meine Katzen."

Next day, however, the poor virgins heard, to their deep sorrow,
what the three-legged hare betokened even as they had suspected;
for the cry came to the convent that his Grace, good Duke Philip,
was dead, and the tidings ran like a signal-fire through the
people, that this kind, wise, just Prince had been bewitched to
death. (Ah! where in Pomerania land--yea, in all German
fatherland--was such a wise, pious, and learned Prince to be
found? No other fault had he but one, and that was not having,
long before, burned this devil's witch, this accursed sorceress,
with fire and faggot.)

And now I must tell how his Grace had scarcely left Marienfliess
and reached Saatzig (they were but a mile from each other) when he
felt suddenly weak. He wondered much to find that his dear lord
brother, Duke Francis, had only left the castle two hours before.
<i>Item</i>, that Jobst Bork had not arrived there, and no man
knew whither the knight had flown. Here the Duke grew so much
worse, that his ministers earnestly entreated him to postpone the
diet at New Stettin, and return home; for how could it please the
knights and burgesses to see their beloved Prince in this sad
extremity of suffering?

Hereupon his Highness replied with the beautiful Latin words,
"<i>Officio mihi officio</i>." (And after his death, these words
were stamped on the burial-medals. <i>Item</i>, a rose, half-eaten
by a worm, with the inscription, "<i>Ut rosa rodimur omnes;</i>"
whereby many think allusion is made to the livid breath that
passed over the flowers at Marienfliess, but I leave these things
undecided.)

<i>Summa</i>.--His Highness proceeded to New Stettin, and decided
all the boundary disputes amongst the nobles, &c., returned then
to his court at Old Stettin, to hold the evangelical jubilee; but,
by that time, all the doctors from far and near could do naught to
help him; and though he lingered some months, yet, from the first,
he knew that death was on him; for nothing could appease the
tortures he suffered in his breast, even as all the others whom
Sidonia had murdered, and finally, on the 3rd day of February
1618, at ten of the clock, he expired--his age being forty-four
years, six months, and six days. And the corpse presented the same
signature of Satan, though his Grace's sickness had differed in
some particulars from that of Sidonia's other victims. To this
appearance of the princely corpse I myself can testify, for I
beheld it, along with many others, when it lay in state in the
great hall.

On the 19th of March following, the princely ceremony of interment
took place. Let me see if my tears will permit me to describe
it:--

After the deputies from the three honourable estates had
assembled--the Stettin, the Wolgastian, and the ecclesiastical--in
the castle church, with the Princes of the blood, the nobles,
knights, and magnates of the land, three cannons were fired; and
at nine of the clock in the evening, the princely corpse was
carried first into the count's chamber, then to the knights'
chamber, from thence to the grand state-hall, by torchlight, by
twenty-four nobles, and from that to the castle square, which was
entirely covered with black cloth. Here it was laid down, and
sixty students from the university of Grypswald, and forty boys
from the town-school, sung the burial psalms from their books;
while, at intervals, the priests chanted the appointed portions of
the liturgy; after which all the bells of the town began to toll,
and the swan song was raised, "Now in joy I pass from earth."
Whereupon the nobles lifted up the bier again, and the procession
moved forwards. And could my gracious Prince have looked out
through the little window above his head, he would have seen not
only the blessed cross, but also his dear town, from street to
tower, covered with weeping human faces: for the procession passed
on through the main street, across the coal market, through castle
street, into the crane court--all which streets were lined with
the princely soldatesca, who also, each man, carried a torch in
his hand, besides the group of regular torch-bearers in the
procession--and windows, roofs, towers, presented one living mass
of human heads all along the way. And the order was thus:--

1. The song-master, <i>cum choro-item</i>, the rector, paedagogis,
with his collegis.

2. The honourable ministerium from all the three states.

3. The Duke's trumpeters and drummers, with instruments reversed,
and drums covered with crape.

4. The rector magnificus, and the four deacons of the university
of Grypswald, among whom came Dr. Joel.

5. The land-marshal, with his black marshal's staff, alone; then
the pages, three and three, in mourning cloaks, and faces covered
with black taffety up to their noses.

6. The court-marshal, and the marshals of the three
states--<i>item</i>, the ambassadors, and other high officials of
foreign princes, &c.

7. Twelve knights, in full armour, upon twelve horses; each knight
bearing his standard, and each horse covered entirely with black
cloth, and having the arms of his rider embroidered on the
forehead-piece, and on the two sides was led by a noble on foot.

The supreme court-marshal followed these, his drawn sword covered
with crape, in his hand, the point to the ground.

Next the chancellor, with the seals covered with crape, and laid
upon a black velvet cushion.

The princely corpse, borne by twenty-four nobles, on a bier
covered with black velvet, and beneath a bluish-velvet canopy
embroidered on all sides with the arms of his Grace's illustrious
ancestors, with all their helmets, shields, devices, and
quarterings, gorgeously represented in gold and silver.
<i>Item</i>, on each side, twelve nobles, with lighted wax
torches, from which streamers of black crape floated, and twelve
halberdiers, with halberds reversed.

The last poor faded trefoil of our dear fatherland, namely, the
serene and illustrious Princes, Dukes, and Lords--Francis, Ulrich,
and Bogislaff, the princely brothers of Pomerania--all in long
velvet mantles, and their faces covered with black crape up to the
eyes. [Footnote: Note of Duke Bogislaff XIV.-The three accompanied
him to the grave; but who will walk mourner beside my bier? Ah!
that long ere this I had lain calmly in my coffin, and looked up
from the little window to my Lord, and rested in the God of my
salvation! Amen.]

His princely Highness, Duke Philip Julius of Wolgast--the last of
his name--and, like his cousins, wearing crape over his face to
the eyes.

The honourable chapter of Camyn.

The councillors, <i>medici</i>, and other officers.

The chamberlain, knights, and pages of the princely widow's
household.

The princely widow herself, with all her ladies, in long black
silk mantles, their faces covered with black taffety up to the
eyes, and accompanied by their Graces the Elector of Brandenburg
and the Duke of Mechlenburg.

The princely widow, Hedwig, the bereaved spouse of Ernest Ludovic
of blessed memory--who was doomed to follow her whole illustrious
race to the grave--conducted by Duke William of Courland, and
Henry of Mangerson, ambassador from Brunswick.

The Countess von Eberstein, and Baroness von Putbus, with the
ladies in waiting to her princely Highness.

The noble ladies and maids of honour, amongst whom came Diliana
Bork.

Burgomasters, sheriffs, and council of the good town of Old
Stettin.

Trumpeters and drummers, as before, and another songmaster <i>cum
choro</i>, as at the beginning; and so closed the procession.

And how can I ever forget the lamentations that broke forth from
all the people, as the princely bier approached--men, women,
children, all sobbed and wept, as if indeed their own father lay
there, and turned their torches down to view the blessed body
better, from the windows and the towers (for mostly all the people
carried torches). Then arose such a lamentation and cry as if no
comfort more was left for them upon earth, only in heaven must
they look for it; and as I stood in the coal-market, leaning my
shoulder against a post, and heard this great cry of a whole
people, and saw the flashing torches all bent upon this one point
in the dark midnight, behold the bright gold crucifix on the
coffin glittered as if in the clear light of the sun; and the
blaze of the torches was reflected from the black concave of
heaven, so that a glory seemed to rest around and above the bier,
and all shone and glittered in that radiant circle, so that it was
a pleasure and a wonder to gaze upon.

  "Thus through sin and sorrow loometh,
  Light of light from God that cometh,
    Shining o'er life's saddest night.
  For His glory ever stayeth,
  On the soul that weeps and prayeth;
  May the words that Jesu sayeth
    Guide us onward towards that light!
                                      Amen!"

The procession now returned again to the castle square, and from
thence to the chapel.

Now when the coffin was laid down before the altar, and all the
twelve knights with their standard gathered round it, my esteemed
godfather, Dr. Cramer, advanced up the nave to the altar, chanting
the Kyrie Eleison, and all the twelve knights lowered their
standards upon the coffin, and beat their breasts, crying
out--"Kyrie Eleison!" which cry was caught up by the whole
congregation, and they likewise--nobles, priests, people, prince,
peasant, men, women, children--all smote their breasts and cried
out, "Kyrie Eleison!" so that my blessed godfather, his voice
failed through weeping, and three times in vain he tried to speak.

After the sermon, the coffin was lifted up and lowered into the
vault, and the signet-ring of his Highness broken by the
land-marshal, and flung upon the coffin. But the twelve standards
were set down by the altar, and the marshal presented his staff to
Bishop Francis, now the serene and illustrious reigning Duke of
Pomerania; and the supreme court-marshal delivered up the sword,
and the chancellor the seals to his Serene Highness, and so this
mournful ceremony terminated.




CHAPTER XVIII.

<i>How Joist Bork and his little daughter are forced at last into
the "Opus Magicum"--Item, how his Highness, Duke Francis, appoints
Christian Ludecke, his attorney-general, to be witch-commissioner
of Pomerania.</i>


Now my Jobst, guessing well what was in store for him if he
remained at the ducal court, ordered his horses to be ready
harnessed by four of the clock, on the morning after the funeral,
that he might get clear off with his daughter before my lord Duke
knew anything of the matter. But his Highness knew better than
that, for just as the knight and his daughter were stepping into
the coach, four of the Duke's equerries sprang forth and seized
the horses' heads, while four pages rushed down the castle steps,
and informed the knight that he must accompany them with his
daughter back to the castle, and up to the private apartment of
his Grace, for that the Duke had a word to say to him before his
departure. What could my Jobst do? He must take his Diliana out of
the coach again, and follow the pages through the castle up to the
Duke's quarters, which were filled with all beautiful things,
statues and paintings, &c., from Italy; and his private room was
decorated with the finest pieces of sculpture. So here they find
his Grace and Dr. Joel seated at a table, with the wine-can before
them, for they had sat up all night discoursing.

And when my Jobst enters with his sour face, holding his daughter
by the hand, the Duke calls out--

"Marry, brave vassal, why so sour? <i>I</i> might well look sour,
since you and your little daughter lately chose to play
blind-man's-buff with your lawful Prince, making a mock of him.
But I pardon you, and hope you have come to your senses since.
Come, sit down; drink my health in the wine cup. I trow this wine
will please your palate."

But Jobst excused himself: "He never drank so early." Whereupon
the Duke continued--

"Well, as you please; but, good Jobst, you must be harder than a
stone, if you refuse now to assist me in binding this accursed
witch of Marienfliess, when you see this last evil which she has
done, and how all the weeping land mourns for its Prince. Will you
and your little daughter, this virgin, not deliver me and my
ancient race from so great and terrible a foe? What say ye, brave
Jobst? Come, sit down beside your afflicted Prince, you and your
little daughter, and tell me what help and comfort ye mean to
bring me in my sore grief and sorrow. Speak, Jobst; ah! say was
ever Prince like unto this Prince--and yet childless, childless,
as we are all! Have pity on my noble ancient race, or, even as he
lamented on his death-bed, 'Pomerania will pass in a little while
into stranger hands!'"

Now, my Jobst, who had sat down with his daughter on a couch near
the table, got the dry sheep's cough in his throat again, and, in
his embarrassment, snuffed out the candle; but, making a great
effort, at last said--

"His Grace must be resigned: who could withstand the will of God?
Yet he must say, in all honesty, that he had talked to many
persons about the matter, and some said it was folly and nonsense,
and there could be no reason in it. Others, amongst whom was Dr.
Cramer, said, if not folly, yet it was a dangerous business to
body and soul, and ought not to be attempted."

But my Jobst grows disturbed, and at last says, "Well, then, I
must speak out the truth. My child is not the pure virgin whom ye
seek. I mean in her thoughts, for she has already been betrothed
to a bridegroom."

At this the Duke clapped his hand to his forehead and sighed-"Then
my last hope has perished!" <i>Item</i>, the magister was quite
thunderstruck. But Diliana, who blushed to her finger-ends while
her father spoke, started from the couch, seized the hand of my
gracious Lord, and exclaimed--

"Be calm, my Lord Duke, my father hath said this but to free me,
as he thinks, from this dungeon business. But even against him I
must defend my honour, for in truth my soul has been ever pure
from all vain or sinful lusts, even as it is written (Tobias
iii.). And though my father has proposed a bridegroom to me, yet
up to this day I have constantly rejected him, partly for the sake
of my poor grandmother, whose ghost admonished me, and partly that
I might serve your gracious Highness as a pure and honourable
virgin." This hearing so rejoiced the Duke, that he kissed her
hand; but the fair young virgin, when she saw her father rise up
and walk hither and thither in great agitation, began to weep, and
ran to throw herself on his neck, sobbing forth, "Comfort
yourself, dear father, it could not be otherwise, for when you
uttered such hard words of your daughter, what could I do but
defend my honour, even against my own earthly father? Ah, dear
father! it was the cruellest word your little daughter ever heard
from you in her life--but one little kiss, and all will be right
again!"

The poor knight now fairly sobs like a child, and at last stammers
out, "Well then, you must let me be present; if the devil takes my
child, let him take me too along with him. I would rather be with
my little daughter in hell, than without her in heaven."

"Good knight," answered Joel, "that may not be; only three can be
present, the Duke, your daughter, and myself. I handle the
intellectual vinculum or the conjuration. Diliana takes the
elementary vinculum, as dove's blood, the blood of the
field-mouse, virgin wax, and the censer, in her pure hands, and
the Duke holds the astral vinculum, and questions the spirit."

Still my Jobst answers, "It may not be, unless I am present." And
the strife continued in this wise for a good space, until it was
at last agreed upon that the knight should keep watch before the
door with his drawn sword during the conjuration, and that in
autumn, when the sun entered Libra, they would begin the great
work.

Jobst now rose to take his leave, but his little daughter,
Diliana, stood awhile silent, then blushed, looked upon the
ground, and spoke at last--

"My Lord Duke, will your Grace make my father promise, upon his
knightly word, never to bring the young noble, George Putkammer,
whom he has destined for my husband, into my presence from this
day forth until after I have questioned the spirit. For I have a
liking for the young knight, and I am but a poor, weak thing, like
our mother Eve and all other women: who knows what thoughts might
rise in my heart, if I beheld his face or listened to his
entreaties? and then the whole good work would come to nought, or
perchance I might repent it my life long. I would therefore now
rather go to Stramehl, where I can pray and become strong in
spirit, so that perchance I shall find favour in the sight of the
angel of God, as Hagar the handmaid of Abraham in the desert."

Then the beautiful child folded her hands, and looked up to heaven
with such trust and innocence, that all were moved, and the knight
pledged his word to the Duke; after which he pressed his little
lamb to his heart, and then both of them left the chamber of his
Highness.

Now the Duke at last was joyful, for he had hope in the great
work, and fell upon his knees with the magister to pray God for
mercy upon himself, his race, and the young virgin. <i>Item</i>,
promised by his honour to seek out and burn all the witches in the
land, that so the kingdom of God might be built up, and the
kingdom of the prince of this world sink to ruin and utter
destruction. And on the following morning, he sent for Christian
Ludecke (brother to the priest who had been bewitched to death),
appointed him special witch-commissioner of the kingdom, and bade
him search throughout the length and breadth of the land, and
wherever he found one of these evil and accursed sorceresses, to
burn her for the honour and glory of God. [Footnote: An equally
notorious witch-finder was one Hopkins of England. See Sir Walter
Scott's "Letters upon Demonology and Witchcraft."]

"Let him show no mercy towards this hell-brood of Satan, for the
devil lately had become so powerful everywhere, but especially in
dear Pomerania-land, that, if not prevented, he would soon pervert
the whole people, and turn them away from the pure and blessed
evangelical doctrine. Still he must have them all tried fairly
before the sheriff's court ere he tortured or burned. His brother
of blessed memory had too long delayed the burning, therefore he
must now be the more diligent; and, by next autumn, he trusted,
with the help of God, to be able to burn Sidonia herself."

Hereupon, my Ludecke wondered much that his Grace should be so
confident about burning Sidonia, but answered bravely, "All should
be done as his Highness wished; for since the cruel death of his
poor brother, the priest, his motto was--'Torture! burn! kill!'
But would to God that his Highness could bind Sidonia's familiar
first, for he was a powerful spirit, every one said; and could not
this learned magister exorcise him? The rumour went that he meant
so to do." But his Grace rebuked such curiosity, and answered
coldly, "He could not tell how the magister meant to proceed; but
his (Ludecke's) duty lay clear before him, let him do it."

Hereupon, my Ludecke looked rather confused, and took his leave.
And soon after, the witch-burnings began in such fearful rise
through the land, that in many parishes six or seven poor women,
young or old, innocent or guilty, it was all the same--yea, even
children of ten to twelve years were yearly burned to powder; and
by the wonderful providence of God, it happened that the burnings
began first in Marienfliess, and truly with one of Sidonia's
friends, the old pugnosed hag of Uchtenhagen, whom I have
mentioned before, and that she visited Sidonia frequently; and
this was the way of it:--One day, Sidonia beat this same Pug-nose
most unmercifully with the broomstick, and chased her out into the
convent square, still striking at her, which sight, however, the
nuns little heeded, for this <i>spectaculum</i> was now so common
that they only thanked their stars it was not their turn, and
passed on. But Anna Apenborg met her by the well, and as the
horrible old Pug-nose was screeching and roaring at the top of her
voice, and cursing Sidonia, she asked, "What now?--what ailed
her?--what had she and the Lady Sidonia been quarrelling about?"
And some others came up, principally the wenches from the kitchen,
to hear what all the roaring was for. Whereupon, Pug-nose told her
story: "The cursed lady-witch had bid her lately go to the holy
sacrament, and when she received the blessed wafer, to take the
same out of her mouth privately, and bring it to her at
Marienfliess, wherewith to feed her familiar, whom she kept in the
form of a toad. At this blasphemy she (Pug-nose) remained silent,
for she feared the hag and her anger; but on the Sunday she
swallowed the bread, as other Christian people; whereupon Sidonia
sends for her, pretending she had spinning to give her, but no
sooner had she entered the room, than the terrible she-devil asked
for the wafer; so she confessed she had swallowed it. How could
she commit such a horrible sacrilege? At this, the accursed witch
ran at her with the broomstick, and beat her all the way down into
the court."

This story soon spread over the convent, and the priest's wife
told it to the fish-seller, who came up there that day, bidding
him run to her brother-in-law, Christian Ludecke, with the news of
the last sorcery going on in the convent.

This was a fine hearing to the witch commissioner, who resolved
instantly to seize Pug-nose, and begin the burnings in the parish
of Marienfliess, to frighten Sidonia, and keep her in check until
autumn. So he took the executioner, with all the torture
instruments, and a scriba along with him in the carriage, and set
off for Uchtenhagen, where the old hag dwelt.




CHAPTER XIX.

<i>How Christian Ludecke begins the witch-burnings in
Marienfliess, and lets the poor dairy-mother die horribly on the
rack.</i>


Now it happened about this time in Marienfliess that the
dairy-mother (I have tried to remember her name, but in vain, she
was daughter to Trina Bergen I know, as is noticed <i>libro
secundo</i>) sold a kid to the bailiff, Brose [Footnote:
Ambrosius.] Bucher, grandson of that Zabel Bucher who was going to
burn old Wolde years before, which kid soon grew sick and died.
<i>Item</i>, the bailiff's wife had quarrelled with the
dairy-mother (ah, if I could remember her name) about the price;
the said wife assured her husband the bailiff that the
dairy-mother had bewitched the kid to death out of spite, because
she would not give her as much as she asked for it. This he easily
credited, and talked of it to the country people, and now the old
hag must be an evil witch, her mother indeed he knew had been in
bad repute likewise, for how but by witchcraft could the poor
little kid have died off all of a sudden. So all the malicious
women's tongues were set going with their spinning-wheels, and
this poor worthy dairy-mother, whose piety, charity, and kindness
I have noticed already, was in a few days the common talk of the
parish.

About this time, Beatus Schact, the convent chaplain, was summoned
to baptize a shepherd's dying child, and he had just packed up his
book, when he observed through the window a waggon, drawn by four
horses, coming down the Stargard street, with the sound of singing
from the persons within. Foremost on the waggon sit three
official-looking personages, in scarlet mantles, and one of them
bears a red banner, with a black cross thereon, in his hand.
Behind them are three women bound, and the psalm which they chant
is the death-psalm--"Now pray we to the Holy Ghost." As the priest
looks upon this strange sight, <i>bis dato</i>, never seen in
Pomerania-land, the waggon halts close by the church wall, and one
of the men with the red mantles sounded a trumpet, so that all the
people run to see what was going forward, and the priest runs
likewise. <i>Item</i>, all the nuns gather thick at the convent
gate, and peep over other's shoulders; for people think it must be
pickleherring, or some such strolling mummers, come to exhibit to
the folk during the evening.

Meanwhile, a peasant observes that his own sister, Ussel, wife to
a peasant at Pegelow, was one of the three poor wretches who sat
there with bound hands. Whereupon he springs to the waggon, and
asks with wonder, "Ussel, what brings thee here?" But for answer
she only pours forth tears and lamentations. However, commissioner
Ludecke (for you may well guess it was he with his witch-waggon)
would not let them discourse further; but bid the peasant stand
back, unless he wished the executioner to seize him and tear his
hide for him; then speaks--

"Know, good people, that our serene and gracious Prince and Lord,
the illustrious and eminent Duke Francis George of Stettin,
Pomerania, having heard that the devil is loose in our dear
fatherland, and carries on his demon work, especially amongst the
women folk, tempting them into all horrible sorceries, filthiness,
and ungodly deeds, has appointed me, Christian Ludecke (brother of
your late pastor), to be witch-commissioner for the whole kingdom,
that so I may purge the land by fire, bringing these devil's hags
to their just punishment, for the great glory of God, and terror
of all godless sorceresses, witches, and others in this or any
other place. Ye are also to name me the honourable
attorney-general, which also I am."

Here the peasant cried out--

"But his sister Ussel, who sat there bound upon the cart, was no
witch, and every one knew that. His worship might take pity on her
tears and let her free. She had a husband, and four innocent
little children likewise; who would take care of them now?"

"No, no," shouted Ludecke; "true sign that she is a witch since
she howls! Had she a good conscience wherefore should she do it?
He came to know whether there was a witch, perchance, also in
Marienfliess?"

Here the bailiff's wife nudged her husband in the side with her
elbow, and whispers--"The dairy-mother," but the carl would not
utter a word. So she screamed out herself--

"Ay, there is the dairy-mother of the parish, a horrible old
witch, as all the town knows."

And here I have just bethought me of the name of the dairy-mother.
It was Benigna Ficht; she was widow of old Ficht, the peasant.

At this several voices cried out, "No, no;" but she screamed out--

"Yea, yea! it was true; and her mother before her had been an evil
witch, and had let witches sit in her cellar, so that she must be
a witch herself." [Footnote: This idea runs through all the witch
trials. Woe to the woman whose mother had been accused of
witchcraft, she seldom got off with her life.]

This pleased the bloodthirsty attorney-general, and he asked if
the bailiff were present. And when my Brose stepped forward with a
profound bow, Ludecke went on--

"Was this the case about the dairy-mother? Was she, in truth, an
evil witch?"

Whereupon his malicious wife nudged him again with her elbows in
the side, till he answered--"Ay, the people say so."

Ludecke continued--"Were there more witches in the place beside
the dairy-mother?"

The fellow was silent and seemed disturbed, until being menaced by
the commissioner with all temporal and eternal punishment if he
spoke not the truth, my Brose stepped up upon the wheel, and
whispered in his ear, while he cast a frightened glance at the
convent gate--

"Ay, there is another, one of the convent sisters called Sidonia
Bork, she is the very devil itself."

But Ludecke seemed as though he could not believe him--

"It was impossible; he had always heard that this lady was a model
of all goodness, piety, and wisdom, who had healed the sheriff
himself of some great sickness;" but he squinted all the time over
at the convent gate, where the black robes were crowding, and then
whispered the bailiff--"Is Sidonia amongst them, think you?"

My carl squinted likewise at the gate, then whispered back again
in his ear--"No, Sidonia is not there, as far as I can see."

Meanwhile the <i>pastor loci</i>, a simple, timid little man, as I
have said, got up all his courage, and feeling it to be his duty
to defend his parishioner, the poor dairy-mother, advanced to the
waggon, saying--

"Would his worship the lord attorney-general permit him a few
words? He was the priest of the parish, had married the widow of
his late brother, as no doubt his worship had heard by letters
from his dear spouse. His duty compelled him to take the part of
this poor dairy-woman, whose character evil tongues had blackened
to his worship, for she was the most pious person in all the
parish, and every evening brought her spinning along with other
pious women to his house, to hear the blessed Word of God, and be
examined in the catechism--any one who knew her pious honest life
could not believe this of her."

"So much the more likely she is a witch," cried Ludecke; "they are
all hypocrites. Look at that pious and honest trio in the cart,
how they cast down their eyes and look so innocent, and yet they
were three of the vilest witches; for what made them look down, if
it were not their evil conscience?"

Now it happened that just then old Wolde came limping by, with a
new broom which she had bought in the town for Sidonia, no doubt
to lay under the table, as she was wont; so Brose whispered--

"Yea, yea, there was one hobbling by with the broom, and she was
the worst of all, Sidonia's servant, old Wolde." Whereupon the
commissioner thought within himself, how could he terrify Sidonia
more than by seizing her maid, and sending her to the rack and the
stake. So he bid the executioner lay hold on that lame hag with
the broom, and fling her into the cart along with the others. This
was soon done; for, though old Wolde made some resistance, and
screeched and roared, yet she was thrown down upon the ground,
bound, and flung into the nest in spite of all.

Anna Apenborg saw all this from the convent gate, and, to make
friends with Sidonia, she ran to the refectory with the news of
Ludecke's doings. Whereupon Sidonia, who knew the coward knave
well, seized her broomstick and ran down the steps, beating the
nuns right and left about the ears, who were gathered thick and
black around the gate, so that they all flew screaming away, and
then presented herself, glowing with fury, and brandishing her
broomstick, to the eyes of the terrified Ludecke, whereat all the
four hags cried out from the waggon--

"Help us, O Lady Prioress! Help us, O Lady Prioress!"

And Sidonia screamed in answer, "I come, I come!" swung her
broomstick and called out--"Wait, thou accursed quill-driver,
wait!"

But my Ludecke no sooner saw her rushing at him, with her thin
white hair flying about her face, than he jumped from the cart,
and took to his heels so fast that nothing could be seen of him
through the dust he raised but the bright nails of his shoes, as
he scampered away to the furze bushes. <i>Item</i>, followed the
scriba, and lastly the executioner, to the great amusement of the
common folk, who stood round the waggon, and now laughed and gibed
at the authorities. Then the afore-mentioned peasant jumped upon
the cart, and cut the cords that bound his sister, Ussel, and the
others. Whereat they likewise took to their heels and went hither
and thither, to hide themselves in the wood, while old Wolde
returned calmly with Sidonia to the convent, and two of the hags
got clear off, and were fed by their kinsfolk, I take it, for
months in the pits and hollow trees where they had sheltered
themselves, for never a trace could Ludecke get of them more,
though he searched day and night in every village, and house, and
nook, and corner. But Pug-nose, who was half-blind with fright, in
place of running away, ran straight up into the very mouth of the
executioner, who was crouching with the clerk his master behind a
thorn-bush.

Eh, how she roared when Master Hansen stretched out his arm and
caught hold of her by the coat! Then he bound her again, and so
she was carried to the sheriff's house, for Ludecke had set up his
quarters with Sheriff Sparling, and that same day he resolved to
open the criminal commission <i>nomine serenissim</i>a with
Pug-nose.

<i>Summa</i>.--The hag confessed upon the rack to Sidonia being a
witch, and named several other women besides. So my Ludecke has to
write off for another executioner and seven bailiffs, fearing his
own would have more work on their hands than they could do. And
every day messengers were despatched to Stargard with bundles of
indictments and writs. And in the sheriff's court, day after day,
there was nothing but trying witches and condemning them, and
torturings, and burnings. And though many saved themselves by
flight, and others got off with only a sharp reprimand, yet in
four weeks no less than four wretched women were burned close by
Sidonia's window, so that she might see them smoking to powder.

And Pug-nose was the first whom the bloodthirsty knave ordered to
be burned (I say nothing against that, for it is all right and
according to law), but the bloodhound went rather beyond the law
sometimes, thinking to terrify Sidonia, for it was the custom to
build a sort of little chamber at top of the pile within which the
wretched victims were bound, so that they could be stifled by the
smoke before the flames reached them. But he would allow of no
little chamber, and had a stake erected on the summit of the pile,
round which an iron chain was fastened, and to the end of this
chain the miserable criminal: and truly many hearts were moved
with pity when Pug-nose was fastened to the stake, and the pile
was lit, seeing how she ran right and left to escape the flames,
with the chain clattering after her, in her white death-shift,
stitched with black, which Sidonia gave out she made for her out
of pure Christian charity--screaming horribly all the while, till
finally the fire blazed up over her, and she fell down a blackened
heap.

Three weeks after three more women were burned upon three separate
piles, on the same day, and at the same hour, straight in view of
Sidonia's window; and they likewise each one were bound to the
chain, and their screams were heard plainly as far as Stargard.
And for four miles round the smell of roast human flesh was
plainly perceptible, which, as every one knows, has quite a
different odour from any other burned flesh. Yet the death of the
poor dairy-mother was still more horrible if possible, and though
it may well make my tears to flow again, yet I will relate it. But
tears here, tears there, what will it help?

So to begin:--

My worthy father-in-law, M. Beutzius, formerly court-chaplain, but
who had lately been made general-superintendent by Duke Francis,
for the reason before mentioned, went about this time to attend
the synod, at the little town of Jacobshagen; and on his way home,
in the morning about eleven o'clock (for he had slept at
Stargard), while passing the court-house at Marienfliess, had his
attention attracted by two young peasant girls, who were standing
before a window wringing their hands, and screaming as piteously
as if the world itself were going to be destroyed.

He stopped his coach instantly, listened, and then distinctly
heard groans proceeding from the little room; but the sound was so
hollow and unnatural that two pigs that were rooting up the earth
near him lifted up their snouts. As soon as they heard it, they
started off in fright, then stopped and stood listening and
trembling in the distance. So my worthy father-in-law called out,
while his hair stood on end with terror, "Children, for the love
of God, what is the matter?" But the poor girls, for their sobbing
and weeping, could utter nothing but "Our mother! our poor
mother!" Upon which he sprang from the coach, advanced closer, and
asked, "What is it, poor girls? what has happened?"

"Oh sir!" answered one at last, "our poor innocent mother has been
lying two whole hours on the rack within there, and the savage
knaves won't leave their breakfast to come and release her!"

So the good man looked shudderingly through the window, and there
beheld the unfortunate dairy-mother lying bound half naked upon a
plank, so that her white hair swept the ground. And her hands were
bound round her neck, and under each arm lay a coal-pan, from
which a blue flame ascended as if sulphur were burning therein, so
that her arms were burned quite black already.

"My God! where is the executioner?" screamed my father-in-law, and
when the girl, sobbing, pointed to the tavern, the old man ran off
as quick as he was able the whole way to the place, where the
executioner and his fellows sat by the beer-jug, laughing and
making merry. And when he arrived, the old man's breath was
well-nigh gone, and he could scarcely tell of the horrors he had
seen and heard; but when he had ended the executioner answered he
could not help it. "His worship the attorney-general was at
breakfast likewise at the court-house, and had the keys. When he
was done he would send for them." The worthy priest then ran back
again all the way from the tavern to the court-house, as quick as
he could, but stopping his ears the while as he came nearer, not
to hear the groans of the poor dairy-mother, and the screams of
her daughters, who were running hither and thither round the
walls, as if indeed the wretched girls had quite lost their
senses. And at last he reached the sheriff's quarter, where
another kind of roaring saluted his ears--I mean the shouts and
laughter of the drunken noisy crew within.

For the ferocious bloodhound, Christian Ludecke, had invited
friends over from Old Stettin, and there they all sat, Sheriff
Sparling too amongst them, round the table like coupled hounds,
for a fine metal wire had been passed through all their ears as
they sat drinking, so that none could go away without having his
ear torn by the wire. Or if one of the beastly drunken pigs
swilled so much, that he fell under the table, and his ear tore in
consequence, it was a source of great laughter and merriment to
the other pigs.

When the old man beheld this, he thought that between grief,
anger, and horror, he would have fallen to the ground. And for a
long while he stood gazing at the scene, unable to utter a word,
whilst they roared to him to take his place, and shoved the
wine-can over: "But he must have his ear pierced first like the
others; for the good old laws were in force here, and he must
drain the cup at a draught till his breath was gone, and his two
cheeks remained full--this was the true Pomeranian draught."

At this beastly proposition, the pious priest crossed himself, and
at last got out the words--"Mercy for the criminal! mercy for the
poor dairy-mother!"

At this, the attorney-general, Christian Ludecke, clapped his hand
upon his forehead, exclaiming, "'Fore God, it is true, I have let
that cursed hag lie on the rack these two hours. I forgot all
about her. Send to the executioner, and bid him release her. Let
her rest for to-day."

"And you could forget a fellow-creature thus!" exclaimed the
priest, with indignation. "Oh! you are more savage than a heathen,
or the very brute beasts there without, who trembled at the groans
of the poor martyr; yea, hell itself could not be more merciless!"

"What, thou cursed parson!" cried the commissioner, starting from
his seat in fury. But just then, as he sprang up, the wire tore
through his ear, and the red blood flowed down upon his fine white
ruff, whereat the others burst out into a yell of laughter, which
increased the villain's fury ten times more.

"Now the damned hag should stay on the rack till night. What did
people mean coming with begging prayers for the devil's brood? As
well pray mercy for the devil himself--the reverend parson was
very tender about his friends the witches." At which he laughed so
loud that the roof rang, and all the others roared in chorus.

But the priest replied gravely, "I shall repeat every word you
have uttered to his Highness the Duke, with a statement of how I
found ye all employed, unless this instant you give orders to
release the dairy-mother."

"Never! never!" shouted the bloodhound, and struck the table till
the glasses rang. "What is it to thee, damned priest? I am
witch-commissioner of Pomerania; and his Highness expressly
charged me to show no mercy to these cursed devil's hags,
therefore, I am ready to answer to God, the Prince, and my
conscience, for what I do."

However, my worthy father-in-law had scarcely left the room,
sighing deeply at his unsuccessful mission, when the coward
despatched his scriba with the keys to release the dairy-mother.
But it was too late--the horrible agony had already killed her;
and when the hands of the corpse were unbound, both arms fell of
themselves to the ground, out of the sockets. [Footnote: Such
scenes of satanic cruelty and beastly debauch, mingled together
with the proceedings of justice, were very frequent during the
witch-trials. How would it rejoice me if, upon contemplating this
present age, I could exclaim with my whole heart, "What
progression--infinite progression--in manners and humanity!" But,
alas! our modern laws, with their womanish feebleness, and
sentimental whimperings, sin quite as much against a lofty and
noble justice as those of earlier times by their tyrannical and
cannibal ferocity. And yet now, as then, <i>conscience</i> is
appealed to as the excuse for all. O conscience, conscience! how
wilt thou answer for all that is laid upon thee! To-day, for
example, it is a triumphal denial of God and thy Saviour Jesus
Christ: a crime at which a Ludecke would have shuddered, even as
we shudder now at his; and yet no sense of shame or disquietude
seems to pass over thee, although by the Word of God thy crime is
a thousandfold greater than his. Matt. xii. 31; John viii. 24;
Ephes. v. 6.]




CHAPTER XX.

<i>What Sidonia said to these doings--Item, what our Lord God
said; and, lastly, of the magical experiment performed upon George
Patkammer and Diliana, in Old Stettin</i>.


I think my bloodhound gained his end at last respecting Sidonia;
for truly a terrible anguish fell upon her--a foretaste of that
hell-anguish she would one day suffer, I take it; yet she only
betrayed this terror by the disquietude of her bearing, and the
uneasiness which she exhibited day and night; <i>item</i>, through
an increase of her horrible hypocrisy, which grew more flagrant
than ever; for now, standing or going, her eyes were turned up to
heaven, and three or four times a day she compelled the nuns to
attend prayers in the chapel. Yet when the news was brought her,
that the coward knave, Christian Ludecke, had extolled her virtues
himself to the bailiff, Brose, she concluded that he meant nothing
serious with her. However, she continued sending Anna Apenborg
diligently to the sheriff's house, to pick up all the gossip she
could from the servants and others. And at length Anna brought
word that a maid at the court-house said, the scriba said, in
confidence, that his Grace of Stettin said, Sidonia should be
burned next autumn.

When Sidonia heard this, she turned as pale as a corpse, and her
breath seemed stifling, but recovering herself soon, attempted to
smile, turned up her eyes to heaven, and, sighing, said, "He that
walketh innocently walketh surely" (Prov. x. 9), and then rang for
the nuns to go and pray in the chapel. Yet that same day, when she
heard of the fearful death of the dairy-mother, she turned her
hypocritical mouth to another tune, raged, and stormed, and abused
the bloodthirsty savage of a commissioner, who had let the most
pious person of the whole parish die so horribly on the rack; then
bid the whole chapter assemble in her room, to state the matter to
his Highness, for if these evil doings went on, not even the most
innocent amongst them was safe from a like bitter death.

Whereupon Anna Apenborg, who had grown the bravest of all, since
she found that Sidonia could not do without her, said, "But,
gracious Lady Prioress, you yourself accused the dairy-mother of
witchcraft when you came back from Stettin, and found the poor
priest in his coffin!" which impertinence, however, my hag so
resented, that she hit Anna a blow on the mouth, and exclaimed in
great wrath, "Take that for thy impudence, thou daring peasant
wench!" But, calming herself in a moment, added, "Ah, good Anna,
is it not human to err?--have you never been deceived yourself?"

<i>Summa</i>.--The nuns must write and sign. Whereupon my Ludecke,
out of fear of Sidonia's revenge, withdrew to Saatzig after the
death of the dairy-mother, from thence to Doelitz, Pyritz, and so
on, still faithful to his motto, "Torture! burn! kill!" for he
found as many witches as he pleased in every place; so that the
executioner, Curt Worger, who, when he first arrived at
Marienfliess, wore nothing but a sorry grey mantle, now appeared
decked out like a noble, in a bright scarlet cloak; <i>item</i>, a
hat with a red feather, a buff jerkin, and jack-boots with gilded
spurs; neither would he sit any longer on the cart with the
witches, but rode by the side of the commissioner, on a jet black
horse, which carried a red flag between its ears; and his drawn
sword rested upon his shoulder. Thus they proceeded through the
land; and upon entering a town, the executioner always struck up a
psalm, in which not only the attorney-general and his secretary
frequently joined, but also the wretched witches themselves who
sat in the cart.

And though the Duke received complaints daily, not only from the
priest Beutzius, and the convent, but from every town where the
special commission was held, of the horrible cruelties practised
and permitted by his Grace's officials; yet the Duke remained firm
in his determination to root out witchcraft, by these or any
means; for whatever the ferocious bloodhound, Ludecke, prated to
his Highness, the Duke believed, and therefore would say nothing
against any of his acts. But our Lord God had a great deal to say
against them; for observe all the signs and wonders that appeared
about this time through different parts of the land, which brought
many a one to serious reflection.

First, some women, who were cooking meal and pease at Pyritz,
found the mess changed into blood; baked bread, likewise, the
same. And a like miracle happened at Wriezen also, for the deacon,
Caspar Rohten, preached a sermon on the occasion, which has since
been printed. <i>Item</i>, at Stralsund there was a red rain--yea,
the whole sea had the appearance as if it were turned into blood;
and some think this was a foreshadowing of the great and real
blood-rain at Prague, and of all the evils which afterwards fell
upon our whole German fatherland. Next the news was brought to
court, that, at the same hour, on the same night, strange and
supernatural voices were heard at the following places, in
Pomerania:--

1. W-edderwill, a house, as every one knows, close to Stramehl,
and the birthplace of Sidonia.

2. E-ggesin, a town near Uckermand, at the other end of Pomerania.

3. H-ohenmoeker, near Demmin.

4. P-yritz, the town where the witch-burnings had raged the most
cruelly.

5. O-derkrug, close to his Grace in Stettin.

6. M-arienfliess, where Sidonia defied man, and blasphemed God,
and organised all the evil that fell upon the land.

Now when the Duke read this account he was filled with horror,
that heaven itself should cry, "Woe;" for when he placed the
initial letters of each town together, he observed, to his dismay,
that they read, "Weh Pom--" [Footnote: Weh is called Woe, and
Pomerania, <i>Pommern</i> in the original.] Yet as the last
syllable, <i>mern</i>, was wanting, the Duke comforted himself,
and thought, "Perhaps it is the other Pomerania, where my cousin
Philip Julius rules, over which God has cried 'Woe.'" So he wrote
letters; but, alas! received for answer, that in the self-same
night the strange voices had been heard in the following places:--

E-ixen, a town near Franzburg.

R-appin, in Ruegen.

N-etzelkow, on the island of Usedom.

Thus passing directly across the land.

Yet the Duke still had some little comfort remaining, for there
was an <i>m</i> wanting--people always wrote Pommern, not
Pomern--therefore by this the All-merciful God showed that He
meant to preserve one <i>m</i>, that is, a <i>man</i>, of the
noble Pomeranian house, whereby to build it up and make it
flourishing again. To this faith he clung in his sore grief; and
Doctor Joel further comforted him about the angel, saying that he
would assuredly tell him what the sign denoted, and this <i>m</i>
in particular, which was kept back from the word Pomerania. But
the magister knew right well--as many others, though they would
not tell the Duke--that the Lord God had spelled the word
correctly; for the name in the Wendisch and Polish tongues is
<i>Pomorswa</i>, spelt with but one <i>m</i>, and means a land
lying by the sea, and therefore many of the old people still wrote
Pomern for Pommern. Had the Duke, however, as well as his princely
brothers, heard of the awful appearances which accompanied the
voices in every place, methinks they would have despaired utterly.
For the clouds gathered themselves into forms resembling each of
the four princely Dukes in succession, as like as if a painter had
drawn them upon the sky; thence they were, each lying on his black
bier, from east to west, in the clear moonlight of heaven.

And his Highness, Duke Francis, was the first, lying on his bier,
with his hair combed <i>a la Nazarene<i>, as was his custom, and
his face turned to the moon, behind which he presently
disappeared.

Next came Duke Udalricus, and his face was so distinct that it
seemed cut out of paper, lying there in his coffin; and he, too,
sank behind the moon, and was seen no more.

Philip Julius of Wolgast was the third, and the blessed moon shone
bright upon his black moustache in the coffin; and, lastly--woe,
alas! Whereupon night and darkness fell upon the sky. [Footnote:
Latin note of Bogislaff XIV.--"Tune ego ipse, nonne? hoc nobis
infelicibus bene taciturnitate nostrum cohibitum est; Elector
Brandenburgiae sane omnia rapiet!" (Then I myself--is it not so?
This was kept secret from us unfortunates. The Elector of
Brandenburg will rob all.) Then in German he added:--"Yet the Lord
is my light, of whom then shall I be afraid? Ah, that my poor
soul, in truth, rested calm in heaven! For I am ready to be
offered up like St. Paul (meaning through Wallenstein): 'Would
that the time of my departure were at hand! '--2 Tim. iv. 6. Yea,
come and take my heritage, George of Brandenburgh, I am weary of
this life."]

But these fearful signs were as carefully concealed from their
Highnesses as if the whole people had conspired to keep the
secret; besides, the figures were not observed at every place
where the voices sounded. However, Doctor Joel himself came to the
conclusion, in his own mind, that, after these open declarations
from heaven, it would be quite useless to consult the angel.
Nevertheless, to calm the mind of the Duke, he resolved to go
through with the conjuration if possible, at least he might bind
the hell-dragon of Marienfliess, and save others from her evil
spells, if even the Duke and his illustrious race were already
doomed.

Now, having cast Sidonia's nativity, he found that the time in
which alone her powerful evil spirit or familiar could be bound,
coincided exactly with that in which the sun-angel might be made
to appear; thus, the helpless hag could be seized at Marienfliess
without danger or difficulty, at this precise hour and moment. So
he determined to commence his conjuration at once by the magical
bloodletting, and for this purpose wrote the following letter to
Diliana, with which his Highness instantly despatched a horseman
to Stramehl:--


    *     *     *     *     *     *

JESUS!

"NOBLE AND PURE VIRGIN,--Having found, <i>ex namtate Sidoniae<i>,
that it is possible to bind her evil spirit just at the moment in
which we three stand within the circle to question the sun-angel,
we must seek out a brave youth in Marienfliess whom you trust, and
who by nature is so sympathetical with you, that he will
experience the same sensations in his body while there, precisely
at the same moment in which they are excited in you at Old
Stettin. This can be accomplished only by the magic bleeding,
performed upon you both; therefore I pray you, in the name of his
Highness, to communicate with such an one, if so be there is a
youth in whom you place trust, and by the next new moon come with
him to Old Stettin, where I shall perform the magic bleeding on
you both, that no time may be lost in commencing this mighty work,
which, by God's help, will save the land. God keep you. Pray for
me!

"Your servant to command," M. JOEL.

"Old Stettin, 19th June 1618."

This letter grieved the young virgin, for she saw the magister
would not cease his importunities. Nevertheless, to show her
obedience to his Highness, and by the advice of her cousin
Bastien, she consented to undertake the journey. Bastien likewise
offered willingly to go through the magic bleeding along with her,
but the maiden declined, and wrote privately to George Putkammer
at Pansin the following letter:--

"Be it known to you, Sir Knight, that his Highness of Stettin has
solicited my aid in a mighty magic-work, and desired me to seek
out a youth in whom I trust, that magister Joel of Grypswald may
perform a magic bleeding upon us both. So I have selected you, and
desire therefore to meet you on St. John the Baptist's day, by ten
of the clock in the forenoon, at the castle of Old Stettin. But my
father or Saatzig is to know nothing of the matter; and you must
promise neither to look upon me, nor sigh, nor press my hand, nor
speak of marriage, whether we be alone or not. In this I trust to
your knightly honour and noble nature.

"DILIANA BORK.

"Stramehl, 22nd July 1618."

So on the appointed day Diliana arrived at the castle of Stettin,
and his Highness was rejoiced to see her, and bade the magister
Joel himself to bring all sorts of dainties for her refreshment,
in order that the lacqueys might not be coming in and out, spying
at what was going on. And immediately after, the court marshal
flung open the door a second time, and my young knight
appeared--marry, how handsome he looked--dressed just like a
bridegroom! He wore a buff doublet, with sleeves of blue satin,
bordered with scarlet velvet; scarlet hose broidered in
gold--<i>item</i>, Spanish boots with gold spurs, and round his
throat a ruff of the finest lace--<i>item</i>, ruffles of the
same. So with his long sword by his side he entered, carrying his
plumed beaver in his hand; and truly he blushed up to his very
ears when he beheld Diliana seated there in her pomp and beauty,
and he stammered and cast down his eyes upon his boots when the
Duke addressed him, so that his Highness grew provoked, and
exclaimed--

"What the devil, young man! have you an evil conscience? Can you
not look any one straight in the face?"

At this the young knight lifted his eyes boldly and fixed them
upon his Grace, answering haughtily--"My Lord Duke, I can look the
devil himself straight in the face, if need be; but what is this
comedy which you are about to play with me and this young maiden?"

This speech offended his Highness. "It was no mumming work they
had in hand, but a grave and serious matter, which, as he did not
understand, the magister would explain to him."

So my magister began, and demonstrated the whole <i>opus
theurgicum</i>; but the knight is as unbelieving as Jobst, and
says--

"But what need of the angel? Can we not do the business ourselves?
My lord Duke, it is now eleven o'clock; give me permission, and by
this hour to-morrow morning Sidonia shall be here in a pig-sack.
And long ago I would have done this of myself, or stabbed her with
my dagger for her late evil deeds, if your Grace had not forbade
me so to do at the burial of our gracious lord, Duke Philip II.
The devil himself must laugh at our cowardice, that we cannot
seize an old withered hag whom a cowboy of ten years old would
knock down with his left hand."

To which his Highness answered, "You are foolhardy, young man, to
esteem so lightly the power of her evil spirit; for know that it
is a mighty and terrible spirit, who could strangle you as easily
as he has murdered others, for all your defiant speeches!
Therefore we must conquer him by other means; and for this reason
I look with hope to the appearance of the angel, who will teach
us, perhaps, how to remove the spell from my illustrious race,
which Sidonia's inhuman malice has laid on them, making them to
perish childless off the face of the earth. If even you succeeded
in seizing her, how would this help? She would revenge herself by
standing there deaf and mute as a corpse, and would sooner be
burned at the stake than speak one word that would remove this
great calamity from our house."

Then the knight said, "He would never consent that Diliana should
run the great danger of citing a spirit."

Which, when the maiden heard, she grew as red as the young knight
when he first entered, and said with a grave and haughty mien--

"Sir knight, who gave you any right over my words or works? There
may be other men in whom I place trust as well as you; and speak
but another word of the like nature, and I will prove it to you by
my acts."

Marry, that was a slap on the mouth to my young knight, who grew
as red as scarlet, and cast down his eyes upon his boots, while M.
Joel began to demonstrate the magic blood-letting to them as
follows--

"See here, young knight, and you, fair virgin, here are two little
boxes of white ivory, of the same size and weight; and see, within
each of them is suspended a little magnet, both cut from the one
loadstone, and round in a circle are all the letters of the
alphabet. Now, let each of you take a little box, carry it
delicately, and by its help you can converse with each other
though you were a hundred miles apart. This sympathy between you
is established by means of the magic blood-letting. I make an
incision in each of your arms, placed together in the form of a
cross, then touch the knight's wound with the blood of the virgin,
and the virgin's with the blood of the knight, so will your blood
be mingled; and then, if one of you press the wound on the arm,
the other will feel the same pressure sympathetically on the arm
at the same instant, though ye be ever so far removed from one
another. Now suppose that you, fair maiden, feel a pressure
suddenly on the wound in your arm, you place the magnet box
thereon, and the needle will point of itself, by sympathy, to the
letters necessary to form a word, which word will be the same as
that found by the magnet of the knight, who will likewise have the
box on his arm at the same moment; thus ye can read each other's
thoughts instantaneously, and this results entirely from the laws
of sympathy, as described by the renowned Abbot Johannes
Trithemius, and Hercules de Sunde."

To all this my knight made no answer, but seemed much disturbed.
However, the magister ordered him to retire into the next chamber
and remove his doublet. <i>Item</i>, he bade the young maiden
likewise to take off her robe, seeing that the sleeves were very
tight. It was a blue silk bodice she had on, trimmed round the
bosom with golden fringe, and a mantle of yellow silk embroidered
in violets and gold. Now the maiden was angry at first with the
magister for his request, but laughed afterwards, when she thought
of Dorothea Stettin, and her absurdities with the doctor.

So she said, "Here, cut open my sleeve, it matters not. I have
more dresses with me at my lodging." This my magister does
immediately, and draws forth the beautiful arm white as a
snow-flake, throws the sleeve back upon the shoulder, and places
Diliana with her face turned towards the window, on a seat which
his Highness, the Duke, laid for her himself, while he exclaimed
earnestly, "Now, Diliana, guard thy soul well from any evil
thought!"

Hereupon the poor young virgin began to weep, and said, "Ah! my
Lord Duke, I have indeed need to pray for support, but I will look
up to the Lord my Saviour, whose strength is made perfect in my
weakness. Now the young knight may come, but let me not see him."

On this, the magister called in the young man, and sat him on the
same seat with Diliana, but back to back. Then he stepped to one
side, and looking at them, said, "Eh, my Lord Duke, see the
beautiful James's head. That betokens good luck. Pity that the
younker has no beard! Young man, you have more hair on your teeth
than on your chin, I take it. [FOOTNOTE: Having hair on the teeth,
means being a brave, fearless person, one who will stand up boldly
for his own.] Why do you not scrape diligently; shall I give you a
receipt?"

But the knight made no answer, only grew red for shame. Whereupon
my magister left off jesting; and taking the young man's arm, laid
it upon the maiden's, in the form of a cross, then opened a vein
in each, murmuring some words, while the blood-stream poured down
into two silver cups which were held by his Highness, the Duke.

But, woe! my knight sinks down in a dead faint off his side of the
couch to the ground. Which, when Diliana heard, she springs up
with her arm still bleeding, and exclaims, "The knight is dead!
Oh, save the knight!" Then the poor child wept. "Ah, what will
become of me? What is this you mean to do with us?"

So the magister gave over the young knight to the care of his
Highness, who held a smelling-flask to his nose, while Dr. Joel
took some of his blood and poured it into Diliana's arm, after
which he bound it up. And then, when the young knight began to
recover, she hastened, weeping, out of the apartment, saying,
"Tell the knight not to touch his arm. When there is necessity I
shall press mine. Farewell, gracious Lord Duke, and help me day
and night with the sixth petition in the Lord's Prayer!" And she
would not return, though the Duke called out after her, "A word,
one word!" <i>Item</i>, M. Joel, "Bring a shift with you that
belonged to your grandmother! Nothing can be done unless you bring
this with you!" She hastens on to the inn, and when the knight
recovered sufficiently to follow after her, behold, there was her
carriage already crossing the Oder bridge, which so afflicted him,
that the tears poured from his eyes, and he cursed the whole world
in his great love-agony, particularly his Grace, the magister, and
the ghost of Clara. For to these three he imputed all the grievous
vexations and misfortunes he endured with regard to the fair
maiden.

Yet he lived in hope that she would soon press her wounded arm,
and thus establish a sympathy of thought between them. So he set
spurs to his horse and rode back again to his good castle of
Pansin.




CHAPTER XXI.

<i>Of the awful and majestic appearance of the sun-angel, Och.</i>


At last the blessed autumn arrived, and found my Ludecke still
torturing and burning, and Sidonia still practising her evil
sorceries upon man and beast, of which, however, it would be
tiresome here to notice all the particulars. And on the 11th day
of September, Jobst and his fair daughter arrived at Old Stettin,
where the knight again tried to remonstrate with his Highness
about the conjuration, but without any success, as we may easily
suppose. Thereupon the Duke and the magister commenced a
discipline of fastings. <i>Item</i>, every day they had magic
baths, and this continued up to the midnight of the 22nd day, when
they at last resolved to begin the great work, for the sun entered
Libra that year on the 23rd day of September, at twenty minutes
after two o'clock A.M.

So they all three put on garments of virgin-white linen, and
Diliana drew over hers a shift which had belonged to her
grandmother of blessed memory, Clara von Dewitz, for she had not
omitted to bring one with her, having searched for it with great
diligence. Then she said to the magister, "Much do I wish to ask
the angel, wherefore it is that God gives such power to Satan upon
the earth? No man hath yet answered me on this point. May I dare
to ask the angel?"

Hereupon he answered, "She might fearlessly do it, he was himself
curious." So they conversed, and meantime placed caps on their
heads, made likewise of virgin linen, with the Holy
<i>Tetragrammaton</i> [Footnote: I have observed before, this was
the name, Jehovah, in the Hebrew.] bound thereon. Then the
magister, taking a hazel-wand in his right hand, placed the magic
circle upon his breast with the left, which circle was made of
parchment, and carved all over with magic characters, and taking
up his book, bade the Duke bear the vinculum of the heavenly
bodies, that is, the signet of the spirit; <i>item</i>, Diliana,
the vinculum of the earthly creature, as her own pure body, the
blood of the white dove, of the field-mouse, incense, and
swallow's feathers. Whereupon, he lastly made the sign of the
cross, and led the way to the great knights' hall, which was
already illuminated with magic lights of virgin wax, according to
his directions.

Now as they all stepped out of the door in their white robes and
high caps, shaped like the mitre of a bishop, there stood my Jobst
in the corridor, purple with anguish and bathed in sweat--"He
would go with them;" and when the magister put him back, saying,
"Impossible," the poor knight began to sob, embraced his little
daughter, "for who could tell whether he would ever see his only
joy upon earth alive again? Ah, into what straits had the Duke
brought him and his dear little daughter!"

However, the magister bade him be of good heart, for that no evil
could happen to his fair daughter, seeing that she had again and
again assured him of her pure virgin soul; but they must lose no
time now, if the knight chose to stand outside he might do so. To
this Jobst consented, but when the three others had entered the
knights' hall, my magister turned round to bolt the door, on which
the alarmed father shook the door violently--

"He would never consent to have it bolted; if it were, he would
burst it in with a noise that would waken the whole castle. He was
a father, and if any danger were in there, he could spring in and
save his poor little worm, or die with her if need be."

So the magister consented at last not to bolt the door, but
clapped it to, so that the knight could not peep through. He is
not to be outwitted, however; drew off his buff doublet, took out
a gimlet from his pocket, and bored a hole in the door, laid his
hat upon the doublet, took his naked sword between his legs, and,
resting both hands firmly on the hilt, bent down and placed his
eye at the gimlet-hole, through which he could distinctly see all
that passed in the room. And the three walked up to the centre of
the hall, where the magic lights were burning, and the magister
unloosed the circle from his breast and spread it out upon the
ground, as far as it would reach, then he drew a figure with white
chalk at each of the four corners, like interlaced triangles, and
taking the vinculum of the heavenly creature, or the signet of the
sun-angel, which was written with the blood of a coal-black raven
upon virgin parchment, out of the hand of the Duke, hung it upon a
new dagger, which no man had ever used, and fixed the same in the
circle towards the north--

"For," said he, "the spirit will come from the north: only watch
well for the little white cloud that always precedes him, and be
not alarmed at anything, for I have too often practised this
conjuration to anticipate danger now."

After all this was done, and the pan of perfume, with the vinculum
of the earthly creature, had been placed in the centre, the
magister spake--"In the name of God the Father, of the Son, and of
the Holy Ghost. Amen!" And stepped from the north side the first
into the circle, within which he kneeled down and repeated a
beautiful prayer.

And the two others responded "Amen." Whereupon the wise Theurgist,
the brave priest of the grand primitive old faith, rose up, made
the sign of the cross at the north, and began the conjuration of
the angel with a loud voice.

They were harsh and barbarous words that he uttered, which no one
understood, and they lasted a good paternoster long; after which,
the priest stopped and said--

"Gracious Prince, lay thy left hand upon the vinculum of the
heavenly creature;--virgin, step with thy left foot upon the
signet of the spirit, in the north of the circle. After the third
<i>pause</i> he must appear."

With these words he began the conjuration again; but, behold, as
it was ended, a form appeared, not at the north but at the south,
and glided on in a white bloody shroud, until it reached the
centre of the circle. At this sight the magister was transfixed
with horror, and made the sign of the cross, then said in an
agitated voice--

"All good spirits praise God the Lord!"

Upon which the spirit answered--

"In eternity. Amen!"

Whilst Diliana exclaimed--

"Grandmother! grandmother! art thou indeed her spirit?"

So the spirit glided three times round the circle, with a
plaintive wailing sound, then stopped before Diliana, and making
the sign of the cross, said--

"Daughter, take that shift of mine from off thee, it betokens
misfortune. It is No. 7, and see, I have No. 6 for my bloody
shroud."

Whereupon it pointed to the throat, where indeed the red number 6
was plainly discernible.

Diliana spake--

"Grandmother, how did these things come to pass?"

But the spirit laid the forefinger on its mouth in silence.
Whereupon she asked again--

"Grandmother, art thou happy?" The spirit answered--

"I hope to become so, but take off that shift, the angel must soon
appear; it will be Sidonia's death shroud."

As the spirit said these words it disappeared again towards the
south, whereupon the knight at the gimlet-hole cried out--

"There was some one here, was it the angel?"

"No, no," screamed Diliana, while she quickly stepped out of the
circle, and drew off the shift. "No, it was my poor grandmother!"

"Silence," cried the magister; "for God's sake, no talking more,
we have already lost ten seconds by that ghost. Now quick with the
vinculum of the earthly creature! My Prince, strew the incense
upon the burner; virgin, dip the swallow's feathers in the blood
of the white dove, and streak my two lips with them. Now all be
still if you value your life. Eternity is listening to us, and the
whole apartment is full of invisible spirits."

Then he repeated the conjuration for the third time, and, behold,
at the last word, a white cloud appeared at the north, that at
every moment became brighter and brighter, until a red pillar of
light, about an arm's thickness, shot forth from the centre of it,
and the most exquisite fragrance with soft tones of music were
diffused over the whole north end of the hall; then the cloud
seemed to rain down radiant flowers of hues and beauty, such as
earth had never seen, after which a tremendous sound, as if a clap
of thunder shook not only the castle to its foundation, but seemed
to shake heaven and earth itself, and the cloud, parting in twain,
disclosed the sun-angel in the centre. Yet the knight outside
never heard this sound, nor did old Kruger, the Duke's
boot-cleaner, who sat in the very next room reading the Bible; he
merely thought that the clock had run down in the corridor, and
sent his wife out to see, and this seems to me a very strange
thing, but the knight, through his gimlet-hole, saw plainly that a
chair, which they had forgotten to take out the way of the angel
at the north side, was utterly consumed by his presence, and when
he had passed, lay there a heap of ashes.

And the angel in truth appeared in the form of a beautiful boy of
twelve years old, and from head to foot shone with a dazzling
light. A blue mantle, sown with silver stars, was flung around
him, but so glittering to the eye that it seemed a portion of the
milky way he had torn from heaven, as he passed along, and wrapped
round his angelic form. On his feet, rosy as the first clouds of
morning, were bound golden sandals, and on his yellow hair a
crown; and thus surrounded by radiant flowers, odours, and the
soft tones of heavenly music, he swept down in grace and glorious
beauty to earth. When the Theurgist beheld this, he fell on his
knees along with the others, and prayed--

"We praise thee, we bless thee, we adore thee, O lofty spirit of
God!--thou throne-angel of the Almighty!--that thou hast deigned
by the word of our father Adae, by the word of our father Henoch,
and by the word of our father Noah, to enter the darkness of this
our second world, and appear before our eyes. Help us, blessed
angel!--help us!"

And the angel said, "What will ye?"

Here the Duke took heart, and gave for answer, "Lord, an evil
witch, a devil's sorceress, wickeder than anything yet known upon
earth, Sidonia Bork by name----"

But the angel let him continue no further, and with a glance of
terrible anger exclaimed, "Silence, thou drunken man of blood!"

Then, looking upon Diliana, murmured softly, "Speak, thou pure and
blessed maiden!"

At this the virgin took courage, and answered, "Our gracious
Prince would know how the evil spirit of my cousin Sidonia can be
overcome?"

"Seize Wolde first," replied the angel, "then the evil spirit of
Sidonia will become powerless. What wouldst thou know further?"

Hereupon the modest virgin blushed, stammered, and looked down;
then from awe and terror, scarcely knowing what she said, made
answer--

"Behold, thy servant would know wherefore the All-mighty and
All-merciful God hath, since the beginning of time, allowed so
much power to Satan over His creatures, the works of His own
hands?"

Then the angel spake--"That is a grave and serious question,
maiden, and the answer would be above thy comprehension; yet this
much I will explain to thee--if there were no devil and no evil,
many attributes of the Almighty God our Lord would have remained
for ever hid from you, children of humanity, as well as from us,
spirits of heaven. Therefore, from the beginning, hath God
permitted such power to the devil as might show forth these His
attributes to the wondering universe. First, after the fall, His
<i>justice</i> was revealed, as you have seen displayed in the old
covenant, and this attribute could never have been manifested
unless evil and the devil had entered into the world. Now, thought
the devil when he beheld the manifestation of this terrible
attribute, the whole human race must fall for ever to perdition,
and the Lord God must be the first to murder the work of His own
hands. But, lo! before heaven and earth, the great God manifested
two new attributes; namely, mercy and love, for He fulfilled His
word given to Satan in Paradise. The serpent-treader entered into
the world, and oh! infinite wonder! heaven and earth, which till
then had seen God but in His goodness, now beheld His love bleed
from the wounds of His Son on Golgotha, and the world reconciled
to Him for ever, through Christ.

"Yet Satan still thinks to regain his lost dominion over the
world; therefore it shall come to pass that the Lord will suffer
him to become a mock and derision to all mankind, and for the
first time since the world was made men will doubt his existence
and disbelieve his power, and his name will be a scorn and idle
word to the very children, and the old wives by their
spinning-wheels. Then will be manifested some new attribute of
divinity, of which as yet thou, nor I, nor any creature, may have
an opportunity to contemplate. All this has lain in the purpose of
God, in order to increase the happiness of His creatures; for all
the other attributes of the Almighty, such as Infinity,
Omnipresence, Omnipotence, awaken only <i>awe</i> in the mind of
the finite; but those attributes which He manifests in His triumph
over sin and Satan, are what truly awaken <i>love</i>, and through
love, above all, is the happiness of the creature advanced. When
God has thus manifested all His attributes by means of sin and
Satan, to the joy of His faithful servants, men and angels, for
all eternity, who without sin and Satan would never have known
them, then the great day of the Lord will come, when the wine of
His love-spirit will inspire every creature that believes on Him
in heaven, and on earth, and under the earth! Further----"

But behold, at this word of the angel, a blue ray, about the
thickness of an arm, came up from the south into the middle of the
circle, and blended itself, trembling and glittering, with the
radiant cloud and flowers. When the angel beheld this, he said--

"Lo! I am summoned to the ruins of Nineveh. Let me depart!"

At this the Duke took heart again to speak, and began, "Lord, how
is my ancient race----"

But the angel again interrupted him with, "Silence, thou drunken
man of blood!"

And when the magister repeated the form which broke the
conjuration, the angel disappeared as he had come, with a terrible
clap of thunder; and clouds, light, flowers, odours, and music,
all passed away with him, and the hall became dark and silent as
the grave.

But in a couple of seconds, just as the magister had stepped out
of the circle with the virgin, who trembled in every limb, even as
he did himself, my Jobst comes rushing in at the door with joyful
mien, thanks God, sobs, embraces his little daughter twice,
thrice--embraces her again, and at last asks, "What said the
angel?"

And they told him all--<i>item</i>, about the ghost of his poor
mother, and what it desired. Then, for the first time, they
observed that the Duke stood still within the circle with folded
arms, and eyes bent upon the ground.

"My Lord Duke, will you not step out of the circle?" exclaimed the
magister.

Whereupon the Duke started, sprang from the circle to the spot
where they stood, and, seizing the magister by the throat, roared,
"Dog of a sorcerer! this is some of thy black-art. Jobst here was
right; thou hast raised no angel, but a devil!"

At this the terrified magister first tried to release himself from
his Grace's hold, then began to explain, but the Duke would listen
to nothing.

"It was clear as the sun this was no angel, but a devil, who, as
St. Paul says, had transformed himself into an angel of light;
for, first, the hellish emissary had called him a bloodhound. Now,
what blood had he ever shed, except the blood of accursed witches?
and this, as a just ruler, he had done upon the express command of
God Himself (Ex. xxii. 18), where it is written:--'Thou shalt not
suffer a witch to live.' No one, therefore, from heaven or upon
earth, could blame him for fulfilling the commands of God, yet the
spirit had blamed him. <i>Ergo</i>, he was not an angel, but a
devil. Next, the knave twice called me a drunkard. Here clearly he
showed himself no angel, but, as the Lord Jesus named him, the
'father of lies;' for tell me, friends, was I drunk to-day? If I
do take a sleeping draught after the fatigues of the day--tell me,
what does that matter to this impudent devil? So I say with that
Mecklenburgh nobleman in Dobberan:--

  'Away, away, thou devil, from me,
  I care not a single hair for thee;
  In spite of the devil, a noble man
  Should drain to the last his drinking-can.
  I'll sup with the Lord and the saints the first,
  While thou, poor devil, must ever thirst.
  I'll drain the mead from the flowing bowl,
  While the devil is sitting in hellish dole;
  Therefore, away, thou devil, from me,
  I care not a single hair for thee.

 [Footnote: This inscription is still to be seen upon a tombstone
in Dobberan.]

And doth not Martinus Lutherus say--

  'Who loves not wine, women, and song,
  Remains a fool his whole life long'?

Marry, the grievous devil may wait long enough before he makes me
a fool. I am too sharp for the stuff with which he humbugs you, my
wise chattering magister!"

But the magister began to demonstrate how unlikely it was that
Satan would give advice how to subdue himself; "For how then could
his kingdom stand?" as the Lord said (Luke xi.). So the Duke
listened, and grew thoughtful--at last exclaimed, "Well, come,
we'll settle that over the wine-cup; and to spite the knave, we'll
keep up the carouse till morning; the night is already half spent,
and I have some glorious Muscadel in the cellar."

My Jobst, however, will not remain; and Diliana asks, "What his
Grace will do about Wolde?"

This set his Grace again upon abusing the spirit--"Ay, truly, he
must have been a devil--Master Beelzebub himself, and no good
angel--for had he not bid him twice to hold his tongue when he
began to ask about his old illustrious race, and what should be
done to preserve it from utter destruction? The magister might go
to the devil himself now, with all his magic; he saw clearly
through the whole business."

So a great strife arose between them, which ended in the Duke
permitting the blessed maiden to press the wound in her arm, in
order to communicate, by means of the magnetic alphabet, with the
knight, who at that moment was keeping watch with his good sword
in the chapel of Marienfliess. Everything, however, must be
performed before the eyes of the Duke, else he would not believe
it; so the young maiden, blushing for shame, pressed the wound on
her arm; and after a brief space, cried out with wonder--"In truth
I feel the pressure now of itself." Whereupon, at the command of
the magister, she threw up her wide sleeve (for she still wore the
magic robe), and placed the little box with the magnet on her arm,
directing the magnetic needle, with a fine stick, to the letters,
thus:--

S--E--I--Z--E----W--O--L--D--E.

She then retired to a chamber, to put on her own dress, and had
scarcely finished when she feels the pressure on her arm again.
Whereupon she calls to his Grace and the magister, who set the
magnet immediately on her arm, when, to the great surprise of his
Grace, the needle turns of itself to the letters--

S--H--E----I--S----S--E--I--Z--E--D.

This sight gave my gracious Lord fresh courage: "And after all,
perhaps that was an angel; for surely Sidonia would have protected
her maid, if her evil spirit had not become powerless, as the
spirit had foretold. And now they would soon have the
arch-sorceress herself. He would send a horseman instantly to
Christian Ludecke, who was burning witches at Colbatz, to hasten,
without delay, to Marienfliess."

At last he permits Jobst, since he will not drink, to take his
leave; "yet he and his fair daughter must first promise, by their
honour, not to breathe a word of the magic conjuration, since the
ignorant and stupid people would only make a mock of such matters;
and why cast pearls before swine, or holy mysteries to dogs?" And
truly they kept the secret of his Grace, so that not a word was
known thereof until Duke Bogislaff the Fourteenth communicated the
same to me, precisely as he had the facts from his brother, and
gave me permission to publish them in my "History of Sidonia."




CHAPTER XXII.

<i>How old Wolde is seized, confronted with Sidonia, and finally
burned before her window.</i>


Meanwhile the young knight, George Putkammer, had ridden over to
Marienfliess on the appointed day, to Sheriff Eggert Sparling's.
He mentioned nothing of the great magic work, as the Duke had
forbidden him to do so, but merely said that he had orders from
the Prince to seize Sidonia that night.

At this, my sheriff shuddered: "The young knight should reflect on
what he was about; young people were often foolhardy and
confident, to their utter ruin. What did he want from him? If he
got half the world for it, he would not touch even the clothes of
the devil's hag. He had tried it once, and that would do him for
his life."

But the knight answered, "He had pledged his word to the Duke, and
must hold by it. His worship must just give him a couple of stout
fellows to help him."

<i>Ille</i>.--"Did he really think that in the whole bailiwick a
fellow could be got to go with him, when it was known he was going
to seize the sorceress--the devil's night-bird? Ha! ha! ha!"

<i>Hic</i>.--"Then he would do it alone. His worship must just
give him some cords, and show him a prison where he could put the
vile witch."

<i>Ille</i>.--"Cords he should have, as many as he wished, but on
no account must the hag be brought to the court-house. He knew her
well, and would take care to have nothing to do with her."

<i>Hic</i>.--"At least, then, his worship must lend him a horse,
and he would bind the dragon thereon with stout cords, and carry
her away to his good castle of Pansin, where there was a deep
dungeon, in which he could lay her, until he knew the Duke's
pleasure."

<i>Ille</i>.--"The horse he might have, and choose one himself
from the stall, and if it pleased him, bind the witch on its back
there in the churchyard, under the linden-trees; but to the
court-house the witch must not come--certainly not--or she would
suspect him of having a hand in her capture. Yet let the knight
think again, and give up this dangerous business, or surely they
had beheld each other for the last time."

But the knight only waited until the clock pointed to ten; then
taking a lantern, he goes and chooses out a stout white mare (for
such, they say, are antipathetical to witches), ties her to a
linden in the churchyard, enters the church, lights the altar
candles, and sits there, reading in the large Bible; until about
the hour that the conjuration was taking place at Old Stettin,
when a strange feeling of uneasiness came over him, and he rose up
and walked to and fro in the church in great agitation. Suddenly
he felt a pressure on his wounded arm, and turning up the sleeve
of his doublet, pressed in return, after which, he laid the magnet
upon it, and, to his surprise, read that he was to seize Wolde,
not Sidonia. Instantly he took up the lantern and the cords, put
his good sword under his arm, and ascended the steps up to the
nuns' gallery, and from that, entered the convent corridor, as the
door between always lay open; but stumbling, by chance, into Anna
Apenborg's cell, she led him down a flight of stairs to the ground
floor, and close to the refectory, where she pointed to a little
chamber adjoining, whispering, "There is where the old cat
snores;" then creeps behind a barrel, to watch, while the knight,
holding the light before him, stepped at once into the cell,
crying, "Stand up, old night-bird, and get on thy rags, thine hour
hath come."

A scream of horror was the answer from the hag, and she clapped
violently at the refectory wall, calling out, "Help me! help!
help! a fellow has seized me, Lady Prioress!" But the knight was
resolved to make quick work of it; and hearing a stir already in
Sidonia's apartment, threw himself upon the hag, and bound her
hands tight with the cords, while she screamed, and struggled, and
yelled piteously for the Lady Prioress; then dragging her up, he
exclaimed, "Since thou didst not heed me, now thou shalt come off
naked as thou art; better the devil should not have a rag to catch
hold of. Come!"

But a fearful-looking form just then rushed into the room--it was
Sidonia, just as she had risen from bed, bearing a lamp in her
hand, with her white hair flowing wildly about her face and
shoulders, and her red glowing eyes fixed menacingly upon the
knight. She had just begun a terrific curse, when the young man,
seeing the cat in his red hose following, lifted his sword and
with one blow cut him clean in two, but started back, for the
first time, in terror, when he beheld one half, on its two legs,
run quickly under Wolde's bed, and the other half, on the two
other legs, make off for the refectory, through the door which had
been left open. Even Sidonia recoiled at the sight; but soon, with
increased ferocity, sprang at the knight, screaming and clenching
her hands. But he cried out, "Hold! or I will cleave thee in
twain, even as thy cat." And in truth she stopped stone-still, but
soon began to spit and murmur. Whereupon he cried out again, "Ay,
spit and mumble; but know that my good friend, of whom I told
thee, stands without, and if but a finger of mine aches, now or in
future, he hath sworn thy death."

Then swinging Wolde's clothes, which lay on the bed, over her
shoulder with the point of his sword, he exclaimed to
Sidonia--"Away, away, or the like will be done to thee!"

Whereupon, amidst the howling of the hag, and the horrible curses
and maledictions of Sidonia, he re-crossed the gallery and the
church, the lame she-devil still howling before him, till they
entered the churchyard; after which my brave knight bound her feet
upon the white mare, and rode away with her to his good castle of
Pansin.

I had forgotten to notice before, that the pastor was not buried
within the church, as his widow first intended, but was laid
outside in the blessed earth, because she feared that the man-wolf
might get at him again within the church-vault and tear him.

<i>Summa</i>.--That same evening the witch-commissioner, Christian
Ludecke, arrived with his secretary at Marienfliess, according to
the mandate of the Prince; and behind them come two waggons, on
one of which sits the executioner with his assistants, the red
flag floating above him, and the second is laden with the
instruments of torture and the rack; for those belonging to the
court-house of Marienfliess were not considered powerful enough.
And, as usual, they enter the town chanting a sacred hymn, at
which sound every one shudders, but my sheriff is particularly
horror-struck; and, rushing out to meet them at the court-house,
cried out--

"What the devil! is the bloodhound back again? Did he think that
witches grew up in the town like cabbages?" but held his peace
instantly, when he heard that all was done by command of the
Prince.

So the lame hag was brought back again from Pansin that night, and
the <i>articuli indictionales</i> were drawn up against her, in
which it was not forgotten that years before she had sat in the
cellar of the poor dairy-woman's mother, and there bewitched the
cocks and hens, as many old people still living could testify; and
the bailiff's wife is by no means slack either in helping her to
the same death as the poor dairy-mother. While the whole town and
adjacent country rang with these proceedings, Sidonia's
disquietude became evident. Every day she sent Anna Apenborg up to
the court-house, and there the said Anna and the serving-maid of
the scriba were seen with their heads together in every corner
conversing, and each day brought less comfort to the terrible
witch of Marienfliess. Therefore, about this time, she changed her
demeanour to the nuns, and in place of her usual fierce and cruel
bearing, she now became quite mild, threw up her eyes, went
regularly to church every Sunday, and sighed deeply during the
sermon. Day and night she was singing spiritual songs, and sent to
Stargard to purchase prayer-books, all to make the world think
that she had grown truly religious. <i>Item</i>, she sent her new
maid, Anna Dorings by name, to Stargard, to purchase mercury for
her from the apothecary; and when the maid handed the same to her,
she heard her murmur as if to herself, while she locked up the
poison in her press--

"So now, at least, they can do nothing worse with me than behead
me!"

Then she went herself one day to Stargard, and visited a
celebrated advocate, called Elias Pauli. "The world was now so
hard-hearted, and the devil so active, that she feared her turn
might come next to be tried for a witch, just for the sympathy she
showed for the poor creatures. Alas! how Satan blinded the reason
of men; for when were such cruelties ever heard of as were
practised now on poor helpless women? (Weeping.) And would not my
Elias defend her from this ferocious bloodhound, Christian
Ludecke, who had come again to Marienfliess, and boasted loudly
that, when he had made an end of her old maid, Wolde, he would
seize her next; and even sworn that, to make a terrible example of
her, her nose and ears should be torn off with red-hot pincers ere
she was tied to the stake. And what would my Elias do for her? She
had a few dozen gold crowns which her sister Dorothea had left her
by will, and willingly she would give them, if he turned the base
malice of her enemies to shame. Ah, he might take pity on her; for
she was a good and holy virgin, and as innocent of all they
charged her with as the child in the cradle!" (Weeps and sobs
again.)

So the cunning witch had struck the right nail on the head, for my
Elias was a great lover of coins; and though he had a few silver
and many copper, yet not a single gold one did he possess.
Therefore he became thoughtful after her speech, and walked up and
down the room for a quarter of an hour, after which he stood
still, and answered--

"Lady, you know as well as I do that your name is notorious
throughout the whole land, and little hope can I give you if you
are brought to trial. However, I will do what I can to delay the
time as much as possible; perchance from your great age, and the
bitter heart-remorse you must, no doubt, suffer, you may end your
miserable life before they can lay violent hands on you. Pray to
the Lord God, therefore, day by day, for your speedy death! I
will, likewise, pray for you. Meanwhile, if any evil befall you, I
will write petitions in your favour to all the neighbouring
princes, to the resident nobles, and to the Duke himself in
Stettin, for your race is one of the most illustrious in all
Pomerania. And respecting the gold crowns which you promise, send
them speedily; for remember from the moment they arrest you, your
<i>inventorium</i> is sealed."

This my hag promised, and took her leave; but, woe! the first news
she heard upon her return home was, that her maid, by a decree of
the council at Stettin, had that day been put to the torture; and
having on the rack confessed that she (Sidonia) was the true
arch-sorceress, they were to be confronted with each other on the
morrow. This news Anna Apenborg told her before she had well
descended from the coach--<i>item</i>, many of the other nuns
confirmed the rumour; so that the unfortunate wretch at last
resolved, in despair, to put an end to herself. However, she had
little inclination to taste the mercury, I think.

So in the twilight she creeps out behind the brew-house, which
stood three or four feet from the convent wall, so that no one in
the convent could see what she was about, draws a ladder after
her, sets it against the wall, and mounts, intending to spring
down into the river below and drown herself.

Now it happened that in the oak-wood, at the opposite side of the
stream, my Ludecke and the sheriff were walking up and down, and
the sheriff's teeth were chattering in his head from pure fright;
for a courier from Stettin had arrived that very evening with an
order from his Grace, commanding him, under pain of severe
punishment and princely disfavour, to be present, along with Jobst
Bork, on the following morning, when Sidonia and Wolde were
confronted. Their eyes were suddenly attracted to a head rising
above the opposite wall, then long white hair fluttered wildly in
the evening breeze, and afterwards a thin black form appeared,
until the entire figure stood upon the top of the wall, and
extended its arms as a young stork its wings, when it essays to
leave the nest, while the eyes were fixed on the water below.
Instantly they both recognised Sidonia, and saw what her purpose
was.

"Let her, let her," whispered the sheriff to the other; "if she is
dead, if she is dead, we shall all rest in peace!"

But the other seized a stone, and flung it with all his might at
the wall, crying out, "Wait, thou shameless witch; doth thy
conscience move thee so?"

Whereupon the black figure dropped down again behind the wall as
quickly as possible. And my Ludecke, being loath to lose the fat
morsel he had ready for the flames, resolved to place four guards
over her in the refectory; but though the whole town was
searched--<i>item</i>, menaced that the executioner should scourge
them man by man, yet no one will undertake the dangerous office.
At last four fellows are found, who promise, for a tun of beer at
the very least, to hold watch in the convent square, so that the
witch cannot get away out of the building, with which my
bloodhound is obliged to be content.

Next morning, at nine of the clock, Sidonia was cited to appear in
court, but as she did not come, and mocked the messenger who was
sent for her, Ludecke commanded the executioner to go himself, and
if she would not come by fair means, to drag her by force. The
fellow hesitated, however--

"It was a dangerous business; but if his worship was very anxious,
why, for a good horse from the ducal stables, he might dare it,
since his own nag had fallen lame."

So this being promised, he departed, and, in a short time, they
beheld the carl in his red mantle dragging Sidonia up to the
court-house; and, methinks, many within shuddered at the sight;
for there were present sitting round the green table--Christian
Ludecke, Eggert Sparling, Jobst Bork, and the scriba, Christopher
Kahn.

But when the executioner threw open the door, and bade the witch
take off her shoes and enter backwards, she refused and scolded--

"What? her bitterest enemies were to be her judges. The thick
ploughman from Saatzig, who had stolen her rents from the
farm-houses at Zachow; <i>item</i>, the arch-cheat Sparling, who
robbed his Prince every day--such rabble--burgher carls--secretary
fellows, and the like--no; she would never enter. She was the lady
of castles and lands; besides, her advocate was not here, and she
had engaged one at Stargard;" finally she pushed the door to with
her foot.

"Master," cried the bloodhound within, "seize the witch in the
name of the Prince!"

Whereupon the door was again thrown open, and my hag, sobbing
loudly, was forced into the court in her socks, and backwards.
[Footnote: Because the judges on witch-trials feared the evil
influence of the glances of the accused.]

"And what did they want with her?" she asked, still sobbing.

Whereupon the commissioner made a sign to the executioner, who
instantly admitted old Wolde Albrecht by the same door. She
entered barefoot, and in the black shift worn upon the rack, upon
which the red blood lay in deep fresh stains. When Sidonia beheld
this she shuddered. But Ludecke rose up and admonished Wolde to
speak the truth without fear, and to remember that, on the morrow
morning, at that very hour, she would stand before the throne of
God--there was yet time to save her poor soul.

So the old lame hag began to sob likewise, and lament, and says at
last--

"O Lady Prioress, I must save my poor soul! I would not betray you
else."

Then she spoke out, and told bravely all she knew about Sidonia,
and her evil spirit Chim; and how Chim used to help her own
familiar, whose name was Jurgen, to get rid of Sidonia's enemies;
<i>item</i>, that the devil Chim sometimes took the form of a man,
for she had seen him frequently in Sidonia's chamber.

At this Sidonia raged and scolded, and flew at Wolde to seize her
by the hair, but Ludecke interposed, and threatened, if she were
not quiet, to give her up to Master Hansen for a few turns or so
for trial; upon which she remained silent from terror apace, but
soon began again to sob, and exclaimed--

"Yes, yes; she must think of her blessed Saviour, who likewise was
betrayed and trodden under foot by one who had broken bread with
Him! She had not only given bread to this wretch, but twice had
given her life. Oh, woe, woe to the shameless creature, who could
step before the throne of God with such a lie in her mouth!"

At which the other wept, and answered with loud sobs--

"Ah, gracious Lady Prioress, if I had not my poor soul to save, I
would betray you never!"

Then by desire of the court, she confirmed by oath her previous
statements. Whereupon Sidonia was led back to her cell in the
convent by the executioner, and forbidden, upon pain of death, to
leave it without permission. Whereupon her rage knew no bounds;
she scolded, stamped, menaced, and finally cursed her cousin
Jobst, as well as the commissioner, jailers, and hangmen, as they
were.

The third day the pile is erected again by the executioner, there
where the others stood, that is, not far from the window of
Sidonia, and as it was necessary for one of the criminal judges to
be present at the burning of a witch, Jobst Bork proceeded thither
with a great concourse of people, for my Eggert had excused
himself, saying he was sick, though, methinks, I know what
sickness he had--namely, the hare's sickness; and Jobst admonished
the witch, who hobbled along in her white shift and black cap,
leaning on a crutch, not to accuse his poor cousin falsely, for
let her think where she would stand in a few moments. There was
the pile before her eyes, an image of the eternal hell-fire. But
she held by her first confession, and even after the executioner
made her ascend the ladder, she turned round at the third step,
and cried--

"Give her shoulder as good a wrench as ye gave mine, and she will
soon confess, I warrant."

But behold, when the executioner, by desire of the upright Jobst,
had bound her fast with wet cords, in order soon to make an end of
her, and lit the pile up round about, the flames were still blown
away from the stake by the wind, and would not touch the hag, so
that many saw in it a miracle of Satan, and wondered, till an old
peasant stepped forth from the crowd, and cried, "Ha, ha, I will
soon settle her." Then seizing her crutch, which she had dropped
at the foot of the pile, he stepped up the ladder, and pitched off
her black cap with his stick, whereupon a black raven flew out,
with loud croakings, and disappeared towards the north, and
instantly after the flames blazed up around her, covering her all
over like a yellow mantle, with such rapidity that the people only
heard her shriek once.




CHAPTER XXIII.

<i>How Diliana Bork and George Putkammer are at length
betrothed--Item, how Sidonia is degraded from her conventual
dignities and carried to the witches' tower of Saatzig in
chains.</i>


When Jobst returned home to Saatzig from the execution, he seemed
much disturbed in his mind, which was unusual to him, and sat by
the stove plunged in deep thought. At length he calls his little
daughter Diliana from the spinning wheel where she sat.

"Ah, the Prince had set his life in great peril, but more than the
Prince himself did she, his little daughter, plague him by showing
herself so cold to the brave young knight. She ought to leave off
this prudery, else he feared by the next time the sun was in the
propitious position, that his Highness would send for her again to
question the devil--there was nothing such a fanatic would not do;
but if she would only press her arm now, and bid the young knight
come. Where could she meet with a braver husband?"

At this the young maiden blushed up to her very eyes, and asked
earnestly--

"Father, think you the good knight stays away because I have not
summoned him?"

<i>Ille</i>.--"Of course, my child. Thou forbadst him to approach
thee until summoned; and now where could be a greater proof of his
love than in having obeyed thee?"

<i>Haec</i>.--"Ah me, I have wondered so, father, why he never
sought me. I never meant that; you surely misunderstood me. But,
father, if you wish--shall I summon him by the magnetic sign?"

<i>Ille</i> nods his head, laughing.

Whereupon Diliana, blushing yet more, pressed her arm, and feeling
a pressure in return almost immediately, pushed up her sleeve, set
the magic box thereon, and with her golden breastpin directed the
magnetic needle to the letters--

C--O--M--E---D--E--A--R--E--S--T.

Whilst my Jobst looked over her shoulder, so that his long grey
beard fell upon her neck, and when he read the letters he embraced
and kissed her, telling her that a better kisser would soon come
and save him the trouble--meaning the knight; and truly scarce
half-an-hour had passed, when the cloud of dust could be seen
through the trees, which was raised as he rode along, and, panting
and agitated, he sprang into the room, exclaiming to my
Jobst--"Where is Diliana?" But she sits mute in the corner, red as
a rose, and looks down upon the ground.

So my Jobst laughed, and pointed to the blushing rose in the
corner, whereupon the young knight, George, in a moment is by her
side, and had her hand in his, and asks--

"If his loved Rachel will not end his weary years of serving now,
and be his for evermore?"

"Yes," she murmured through her soft tears. "I will be yours now
for evermore;" and she extended her two arms towards him.

Marry, how soon my young knight took the trouble off the old
father; so that Jobst danced for joy at the sight, and clapped his
hands, and swore that such a wedding should be held at Saatzig,
that people would talk about it for fifty years.

But, alas! the wedding must wait for a year and a day! for, in two
days the young knight is laid upon a sick bed, and brought so low
that at one time his life was despaired of. However, he comforted
himself by pressing his wounded arm three times a day, and thus
corresponding with his betrothed by means of the magnet. So they
told their grief and their love to each other daily in these few
words. And many think that his sickness was a devil's work of
Sidonia, or of old Wolde's planning; but he himself rather judged
it arose from the wild ride to his young bride on the morning she
bade him come. This matter, therefore, I leave undecided.

Yet no one can surely fathom all the cunning wiles of Satan; for
though many said Sidonia's power is now broken by Wolde's death,
and indeed the poor sheriff was the only one who still played the
hare, and kept the roaring ox safe up in the stall--still, so
strange a thing happened at this time to the knight, Ewald von
Mellenthin, that the criminal court thought proper to take
cognisance of the matter, and so we find it noted down in the
records of the trial. For, mark! This same knight, being summoned
to give evidence, deposed to Sidonia having in his presence flung
a hatchet at his dear bride, Ambrosia von Guntersberg, who had
been now a long while his well-beloved spouse, which hatchet had
wounded her in the foot. Then turning to the hag, he exclaimed
wrathfully--

"Ha! thou devil's witch, hast thou found thy recompense at last?"

Whereupon Sidonia made a face at him after her fashion, and
menaced him with the vengeance of her friends.

But what friend had she but Satan, who avenged her on this wise.
For, as some days after, the knight Ewald was driving with his
cousin Detloff, between Schlotenitz and Schellin, such an awful
roaring, and raging, and storming was heard in the air over their
heads, that the two foremost horses took fright, broke their
traces, threw the coachman, who was nearly killed, and dashed off
across the field through thick and thin, and never stopped till
they reached Stargard, trembling, panting, and exhausted, about
evening time.

The knight laid all this evidence before the criminal commission,
and my hare grew so frightened thereupon, that next day, while
listening to the depositions of more witnesses, seeing a shadow
hop along his paper, he started up in horror, screaming, "There
are the toad-shadows again! O God, keep me! There are the
toad-shadows again!" But the special commissioner, who had also
observed the shadow, and got up to look out at the window, now
called out, laughing heartily, "Marry, good Sparling, the shadow
belongs to one of your worship's brothers--a poor little sparrow,
who is hopping there on the house-top. Go out and see, if you
don't believe me." Whereupon the whole court burst out into a loud
fit of laughter, to the great annoyance of my hare.

Whilst Ludecke is drawing up his <i>articulus inquisitionalis</i>,
Sidonia's advocate, Dr. Elias Pauli, was not idle. And first he
stirred up the whole race of the Borks in her favour, letting it
come to the Duke's ears through his grand chamberlain, Matzke
Bork, that if Sidonia were treated with gentleness, and thereby
brought to make confession, assuredly there was great hope that
for this grace and indulgence she would untie the magic knots of
the girdle wherewith she had bewitched the whole princely race,
and laid the spell of barrenness upon them. But if extreme
measures were resorted to, never would she do this for his
Highness.

So the Duke was half moved to consent, and bade his
superintendent, Mag. Reutzius, come to him, and he should
instantly repair to Marienfliess, visit the sorceress in her
apartment, where she was <i>bis dato</i>, guarded a close
prisoner. Let him read out the seventy-four articles of the
indictment to her himself, admonish her to confess, and in his
(the Duke's) name, offer her pardon if she would untie the knots
of the girdle. Did she refuse, however, let her be brought the
following Sunday to the convent-chapel, there, in the presence of
the whole congregation, before the altar he was again to admonish
her. If she still persisted in her lies and wickedness, then let
him summon the executioner to strip her of her cloister habit
before the eyes of all the people. When he had further pronounced
her degradation from all her conventual dignities, she was to be
put in fetters and carried to the witches' tower at Saatzig.

My worthy father-in-law offered many objections against this
public degradation, but his Highness was resolved, and would
listen to no reasons, his wrath was so great against the hag.

Now it may be easily conjectured what crowds of people gathered in
the chapel when the blessed Sabbath bell rang, and the news ran
from mouth to mouth, that the witch was to be denounced and
degraded that day before the altar. Never had so many folk been
seen within the walls. And when the church was so full that not a
soul more could squeeze in at the doors, the people broke in the
windows, and setting ladders against them, clambered through, and
swung themselves right and left on the balustrades, and above and
below, and on all sides, there was not a spot without a human
face. Yea, four younkers crowded under the baldaquin of the
pulpit, and another carl got on the altar behind the crucifix, and
would have knocked it down, but my worthy father-in-law, seeing it
shake, caught hold of the carl by the tail of his coat, and
dragged him forth. <i>Item</i>, the whole criminal commission is
present; <i>item</i>, all the nuns in their gallery, with the
exception of the sub-prioress, Dorothea Stettin, who, along with
two other women, had devoted themselves to a fearful act of
vengeance (which I would hardly have believed of them), but it
will be related presently.

As to Sidonia, she had been brought in already, and placed on the
penitential stool before the altar, after which the organ struck
up that terrible hymn,

"Eternity, thou thunder word!"

Yet, as it happened that the congregation had not got this hymn in
their Psalm-books, seeing that it was quite a new one (which
circumstance had been overlooked in the general agitation), they
were obliged to sing that other, beginning,

"Now the awful hour has come."

Then the reverend priest, M. Reutzius, advanced to the altar,
having first chanted the litany, and there, to obey the Duke's
behests as nearly as possible, opened his sermon with some verses
from the afore-mentioned hymn, which I shall set down here for the
sake of the curious reader:--

  "Eternity, thou thunder word!
Piercing the soul like sharpest sword,
   Beginning without ending!
Eternity! Time without Time,
I know not in my grief and crime
   Whereto my soul is tending.
The fainting heart recoils in fear
To see thy shadow drawing near.

In all the world there is no grief
To which Time brings not some relief,
   Though sorrow wildest rages;
But thou, Eternity, can bring
No balm to lessen hell's fierce sting,
   Through never-ending ages.
For even Christ Himself hath said,
'There's no repentance for the dead.'

So long as God in Heaven reigns,
So long shall last the sinner's pains,
   In hell's fierce tortures lying.
Eternal fires will plague the soul,
Thirst, hunger, horror, fear, and dole,
   The soul itself undying.
For hell's dark shades will never flee,
Till God Himself hath ceased to be!"

After which he read out the words of his text to the criminal,
telling her how his Serene Highness had selected the same himself
out of paternal clemency and in all uprightness. Then he explained
it, admonishing her yet once more to save her poor soul and not
plunge it into eternal perdition. After this, he kneeled down
along with the whole congregation, and prayed to the Holy Spirit
for her conversion, so that every one in the church wept and
trembled and sobbed. Then he rose up again and spake: "I ask you,
for the last time, Sidonia von Bork, do you confess yourself
guilty or not?"

And while every one held their breath suspended, the terrible
sorceress rose up and spake out with bold defiance--

"I am innocent. Curse upon the bloodthirsty Prince, who has
brought me to this shame; my blood be upon him and upon his race!"

"No!" cried the priest from the altar; "he hath saved his soul;
thy blood be upon thyself, and thy perdition upon thine own head!"

Then he lifted his right hand as a signal to the executioner,
whereupon Master Worger stepped forward in his red mantle with six
assistants. And first he draws forth a pair of scissors from
beneath his cloak, and cuts off her nun's veil (for by command of
the criminal judge, she had only a simple veil on to-day), and he
and his assistants trampled it beneath their feet. Then he cuts a
slit in her black robe, just beneath the chin, and tore it down
from head to foot, as a draper tears linen, and at this sight, and
the harsh sound in the silence of the church, many amongst the
nuns fainted. When all this had been done, and Sidonia now stood
there in her white under-garment, Master Worger, by command of the
court, put fetters on her, and riveted them tightly. So that at
the terrible sound of the hammering and clanking, and the
thundering reverberation through the vaulted church, so great a
horror and fear fell upon every one present, that all the nuns who
had not fainted rushed out of the gallery; <i>item</i>, a crowd of
people from the nave, and even the priest holding his hands before
his eyes, hastened after them.

She was soon lifted up by the executioner and his assistants, and
thrown into the cart over which the red flag waved; then driven
off without delay to Saatzig, a great crowd of people trotting
along with her. And even in Saatzig the whole town ran together
when the cart with the criminal was seen emerging from the wood,
and the executioner blew his trumpet to give notice to the warder
on the tower of their approach, as had been agreed upon.

Amongst the crowd, however, my Jobst is not to be seen; yet when
the cart stops, the beautiful form of Diliana is seen pressing
forward. She is dressed in a deep mourning mantle, and bears a
golden beaker of wine in her hand--weeps, and says mildly--

"Here, dear cousin, drink! You shall have everything as good as I
can make it for you, and eat what I and my father eat. Ah! cousin,
cousin, wherefore did you not make full confession?"

Herewith she reached out the beaker to the cart, but the evil
witch screamed out--

"Confess! What should I confess, you fool? Away with your stuff; I
will not be fed by your charity!"

Whereupon she dashed aside the beaker so fiercely that it fell to
the ground, and the wine splashed all over the young maiden's
robe. Then, clenching her withered hand, she shook it at the
window--

"Ha! the thick ploughman. Where hath the devil hid him? the thief
that stole my rents from Zachow! This is my reward for having
cured him! But wait, I will make him repent it yet," &c.

And she would have gone on much longer with her curses, but the
executioner gave her another blow with his fist, which made her
hold her tongue. Then he and his fellows lifted her from the cart,
and as she was unable to walk from shame, and despair, and wrath,
they carried her up the winding stairs to the witches' tower; and
she glowered into the little chamber which she had occupied fifty
years before, at the time she murdered poor Clara von Dewitz, for
they had to pass by it to reach the witches' tower, which lay two
flights of stairs higher up.

And when Master Worger laid her down in the damp dark hole, and
shook out some straw for her to lie on, the knave grinned and
said--"What would she do now for company? The devil would scarcely
come; still a companion would be pleasant."

The witch, however, made no answer, only looked down upon the
ground, muttering to herself. Whereupon the knave laughed again
and cried, "Eh, wait, I have got a companion for you!"

And opening a sack he had brought with him, took out a blackened
human head, and then two long, black, half-burned bones; placed
the bones crosswise on the ground, and set the head atop of them,
then said, "So, now you have right merry company. That is Wolde's
head, as you may perceive; and now ye may conjure the devil
together as ye were wont." Then, grinning maliciously, he went
out, locking the prison door upon the unfortunate wretch and the
death's-head.

Meanwhile, my Jobst and his fair daughter are plunged in great
perplexity and despair at the Duke's cruel order to have Sidonia
sent to their castle of Saatzig. Therefore, the indignant knight
sat down and wrote an earnest remonstrance to his Highness the
Duke, and prayed his Grace, therefore, to remove this millstone
from his neck, or he would resign the post of Governor of Saatzig,
and withdraw to his own good castle of Pansin. This letter he
despatched by a running courier to Old Stettin, and it produced a
good effect upon the Duke; for, in three days, an order arrived
for Sidonia's removal to Oderburg; and the crowds gathered round
the cart, from all parts, to see her as she passed along--as thick
as if it had been the time of the annual fair.

God be thanked, I have now got her as far as the Odenburg! For as
concerning her long imprisonment there, her frequent examinations,
and, finally, the question by torture, what need for me to relate
them here, seeing that your Highness and your illustrious brothers
were present during all behind the green screen? I, too, Doctor
Theodore Plonnies, assisted at the trial as high-sheriff, Anton
Petersdorf was <i>protonotarius</i> to the criminal court, and
Johann Caude, the <i>notarius</i>, conducted the
<i>protocollum</i>. Besides, when I look back and think of her
shrieks, and how the dry withered limbs writhed and cracked upon
the wheel, till the black blood poured forth from her nails and
teeth, my head swims and the sight leaves my eyes--therefore, away
with it! This only will I notice, that her advocate, Doctor Elias
Pauli, preserved her in truth for a year and a day from the rack
and a bitter death, by his keen and cunning devices, thinking that
she would make away with herself some way or other, by mercury or
else, to escape the stake. But no such thing: she was as afraid of
death as a cat of hot broth; so at last he had to suffer justice
to take its course. Whereupon this Satan's hag, on the 28th July
1620, at four o'clock in the afternoon, pursuant to a decree of
the electoral-court of judges of Magdeburg in Saxony, was brought
into the great hall at Oderburg. and there stretched upon the
rack, as I have above mentioned, to force her to a confession upon
seventeen <i>artlculos inquisitionales</i>, many of which I have
noticed here and there through the preceding chapters.




CHAPTER XXIV.

<i>Of the execution of Sidonia and the wedding of Diliana.</i>


After the torture, the poor malicious old wretch became so weak
that she thought herself like to die, and therefore bade my worthy
godfather, Doctor Cramer, to be brought to her that she might make
full confession at last. And her repentance, in truth, seemed
earnest and real now; for after the communion she bade them bring
her coffin--then sat up, and looking at it for a long while in
silence, at last said--

"I shall soon rest there in peace; meantime, carry it out again
till I am dead."

But such a hunger for the blessed sacrament was caused by her
death fears, and not by holy repentance; for as she did not die,
but rather after some days grew strong again (probably because the
Lord God chose to spare her yet longer, for a more fearful and
terrible warning to all sinners), she returned, "like a sow, to
her wallowing in the mire." And more particularly did she spit
forth her poisonous curses upon the whole princely race, when the
court-painter, Matthias Eller, arrived at the prison with an order
from his Highness, to paint her portrait, now in her hideous old
age, behind that which he had seen at Wolgast, representing her in
the prime of youthful beauty. Long did she weep and groan when she
looked upon the portrait of what she had been sixty years before;
then clenched her fists, and cursed to all eternity the princely
race which had first brought her to public dishonour--she so young
and innocent--and not content with that, now thirsted to see her
noble blood flow from the gallows.

"Ah, that was indeed the portrait of her youth! for her princely
bridegroom had got it painted secretly, because of his haughty
arrogant mother, by a painter in Wolgast; but she had revenged
herself on the proud old woman at last. The golden chain was her
own, but the gold hair-band and the sable collar had been a
present from her young bridegroom, And now, what was left of all
her pomp and magnificence! See what these accursed princes had
brought her to with their envy, arrogance, and savage
vengeance--she that was the richest lady in the land was now the
poorest beggar, and had not wherewithal even to purchase a
death-shift."

Meanwhile the report spread throughout all Pomerania land that
Sidonia was dead, and had been privately buried. The cause was
this,--when the executioner and his fellows carried out her coffin
after she had seen it, they told the eager and curious rabble, who
gathered round and had been roaring out for her death, that she
was dead already and lay within, and so they would lose the fun of
seeing her burned; and this they said in jest, to disappoint the
filthy and savage mob. So the news spread through the land and
reached Saatzig, where it was confirmed by an honourable knight
from Old Stettin, who answered them on oath that he had seen her
coffin carried out with his own eyes. So my Jobst and his fair
daughter are glad, and thank God that one of their noble race had
been spared the disgrace of falling by the hands of the hangman;
the young Diliana, in especial, rejoices, and when her lover
arrived from Pansin in the afternoon (for he was grown well and
strong again), she threw herself on his bosom, rapturously
exclaiming--

"Dearest George, our poor cousin is dead; now may the wedding
be--now may the banns be published!"

However, the news soon came how the mistake had happened, and that
Sidonia was still alive. But as the banns had been already
published and the wedding fixed for the 18th of July, Diliana at
length consented to abide by the arrangement, particularly as they
heard also that the execution would be delayed for some time, in
consequence of the Elector of Saxony having sent in his protest
against it to the Ducal Court of Stettin. Indeed, so many powerful
princes protested against this public disgrace, by reason of
Sidonia's high rank, that many thought she would be allowed to go
away perfectly free.

<i>Summa</i>.--Already, by the evening of the 17th, the noble
guests had gathered at Saatzig, and of the Borks, almost the whole
illustrious race is present; among whom were particularly
noticeable the Honourable Aulic Councillors, and Councillors of
Administration, Just, Andreas, and Henning. <i>Item</i>, all the
Putkammers, among whom came the old burgomaster Wolff, with his
sons, Benedictus, Asso, Gerson, Matthias, Wolfgang, &c. So that by
midnight the castle rang with merriment and revelry; and old Jobst
Bork was so beside himself with joy, that he flung the empty
flasks, as he drained them, up at the monks' heads which were
carved round the capitals of the pillars in the great knights'
hall, crying out, "That is for thee, monk!"

But the festive night hath a sad morning, without talking of all
the drinkers who snored till mid-day. However, all were ready at
last to go to the bridal, only waiting for Matzke Bork, the
princely chamberlain, who had promised, if possible, to be present
at the marriage, along with his Serene Highness himself, Duke
Francis. So they watched from the windows, and they watched from
the towers, but never a one of them is to be seen; and the guests
impatiently pace up and down the great hall, which is all wreathed
and decorated with flowers and banners. But the young bridegroom
is the most impatient of all. He paced up and down the hall,
arm-in-arm, with his betrothed, when at last a carriage was heard
approaching, and every eye was turned to the window, but Matzke
Bork sits in it alone. He enters disturbed and mournful, and when
the knight of Saatzig asks him where he has left his Highness the
Duke, he answers--

"The Duke will drink blood in place of wine to-day! Listen, good
cousins, to what the Duke hath resolved concerning our kinswoman
Sidonia. Her sentence hath been pronounced, and this very day will
be carried into effect: first, her nose and ears are to be torn up
with red-hot irons, at three different quarters of the town, by
the public hangman, and afterwards she is to be burned alive at a
slow fire."

When he ended, all the Borks present screamed with horror, and
gathered round him: "And was it not possible yet to change this
sentence?"

But Matzke answered, "He had tried all entreaties, but in vain;
even three times he had cast himself on his knees before his
Highness, yet could obtain no mitigation; for his Grace was
incensed against the witch, because of her arrogant defiance, and
her stubborn refusal to remove the spell from the princely race,
and sent orders to the executioner to build the pile by eight of
the clock on the following morning, and burn her alive thereon."

When he ceased speaking, the uproar in the hall rose to the
highest. Some of Sidonia's kin, amongst whom was Jobst, swore the
devil's hag deserved it all; and how could her death bring
dishonour upon them? But some thought evil of the insult offered
to their race, and cursed his Highness, and would spring to their
saddles and ride to Stettin on the instant.

Matzke, however, lifted his voice, and bade them have reason.
"They must endure what could not be altered. Jobst was right: was
the proud oak the worse because a rotten branch was lopped off?
Were they to come before his Highness with such mien and gesture,
why, he would straight order them all to be clapped into prison,
and then, indeed, would disgrace rest on their illustrious name.
No, no; for God's sake, let them rest here. His Grace was too full
of wrath now to listen even to his preachers, the ministers of
God. How, then, would he hear them? Let them rather rest in peace,
and forget the fate of their evil cousin in the festivities of the
bridal."

"Ay, good cousins and guests," quoth the bridegroom, "let us to
the bridal, and the Word of God will calm us, and bring us upon
other thoughts. But where is my beloved Diliana?"

They sought her in the hall--in vain! They ran all through the
castle--in vain! Diliana is away, and no one knows whither she has
gone.


But the maiden hath a brave spirit, and hath wrapped a black
mantle belonging to her mourning robes over her bridal dress, and
drawn the hood over her myrtle wreath; then taking the shift of
her grandmother, Clara, in her hand, which she had kept ready by
her for such a case, she descended to the stables, where there
were only two grooms to be seen, all the others having joined the
crowd round the church to catch a sight of the bridal procession,
had the best palfrey saddled, took one groom with her, pressed
some money into the hand of the other, and bade him not tell, for
three hours, that she had gone to Old Stettin. Then rode away,
striking, however, into a bypath, to deceive the guests, in case
they should attempt to follow her. And her journey ended all
safely; for in four hours she was in Old Stettin, without having
been pursued. And reaching the ducal residence, she alighted,
hastened up the stairs, bowed proudly to the princely official
without uttering a word, and proceeded straight to the apartment
of the Duke. There threw off her travelling hood and mantle, and
knocked bravely at the door.

"Enter!" exclaimed the voice of his Highness. Upon which the
beautiful maiden in her bridal robes, and the myrtle wreath on her
hair, stepped in. At which sight his Grace, who was reclining on a
couch, started up, took her hand smiling, and asked--"For the love
of Heaven, what brought her hither upon her festal-day?"

So she began: "This was no festal-day, but a day of shame to her
and her whole race, because of the horrible and incredible tidings
brought to them by Matzke Bork, respecting their old kinswoman,
Sidonia; therefore she had left bridegroom, bridal, and festival,
and ridden away alone, to see if she could not turn away such a
disgrace from her noble race, and such horrible torture from her
poor old kinswoman. Had she not freely perilled her life for his
Grace? If they had not succeeded, at least it was no fault of
hers. Let him recall the terrible decree, and if her cousin
deserved death, as she doubted not, command her to be beheaded, as
had at first been agreed upon. This, at least, was a more
honourable and less painful death. His Grace must grant her
prayer, for she would not move from the spot until he did so."

But his Grace is inexorable, and recapitulates all the sins of the
demon hag; "how she had defied him, and made a mock of the holy
sacrament; and wherefore did he bear the sword from God, if it
were not as a just Prince, to set her forth a terrible warning and
example to all; for witchcraft was increasing day by day in the
land, and witches were almost as plenty as flies."

His Grace then paced up and down a long while in silence. At last
spake--

"Now, for thy sake, the first decree shall hold good, although
never was one so unworthy of my favour as this hag."

Whereat the young virgin was so moved with gratitude, that she
fell down on her knees before his Grace, and bedewed his hand with
her tears.

Just then some one knocked, and the jailer entered--

"The witch had taken another fit of conversion, and prayed for a
priest. <i>Item</i>, for a fresh shift, for she had not changed
her linen for four weeks, and no one would give her a fresh
shift."

When Diliana heard this she wondered much over the dark providence
of God, and said--"Wait, I will give thee a shift for her;"
stepped out into the gallery and took Clara's, No. 7, which she
had brought with her, out of her travelling mantle, and, in truth,
this was the very shift in which the murderess was carried to her
death.

<i>Summa</i>.--The jailer hath scarcely got the said shift under
his arm, when the clatter of footsteps is heard upon the stairs,
and then another knock at the Duke's apartment, and this was my
knight George Putkamraer, who rushed in, arrayed in his wedding
finery, but all covered over with dust, since he had not given
himself time to fling a cloak over his dress. He clasped his young
bride to his heart, and half scolded her for leaving him privately
before the bridal. But when he heard of her noble courage, and
what she had accomplished, he was glad again, and kissed the hand
of his Grace, and he must now grant them one favour more, and
return with them to the wedding. "The distance was only five
miles, and he had the finest Malmsey that ever was drunk to
present to his Highness."

At this hearing his Grace exclaimed--

"Eh, George, where have you got the Malmsey? Ha! younker, hast
thou a cup of Malmsey? I will go with thee right heartily to
Saatzig!"

And his Grace wanted to order carriages instantly to carry them
all off, that so they might arrive that same evening at the
castle, but Diliana objected--

"No, she would stand by her word, and never hold bridal in Saatzig
until her poor cousin lay at rest in her grave. This night she
would remain in the town, and not leave it until she had seen the
last of her poor cousin."

A long strife now ensued, but Diliana remained firm to her
resolve. So his Highness said, at last, that he would play the
messenger himself, and journey off to the wedding the moment he
had given orders to his chancellor respecting the change of
Sidonia's sentence. He was better pleased not to be in the place
when she was executed. Diliana could stay the night in the castle
with his dear spouse, the Duchess, and the knight might look after
a place for himself. He would desire all the wedding-guests to be
ready to-morrow at midday for the bridal, and if Diliana and the
knight disliked riding, let them order a carriage from the marshal
of his stables, with fresh Frisian horses, and in a couple of
hours they would be at Saatzig.

However, Diliana would not remain the night in the castle, but
went to her cousin, the lady of Matzke Bork, because her house
stood not far from the place of execution, although the place
itself was not visible, and my younker went down sorrowfully to
the inn to pass the night there, but betimes in the morning was up
and off to his dear little bride. He finds her in the second
story, but no longer in her bridal magnificence; a black mourning
garment covered her entire person; and when the knight started in
dismay at her appearance, she said--

"That no other robes beseemed a Bork when one of their race was
going to her death; and she heard that the procession to the
scaffold was to come that way from the Otterburg, and would pass
in half-an-hour, therefore she was prepared to behold it. It was
well that the scaffold itself was hidden from their sight; but
would her dear George just go over and bid some one hoist a flag
when the head of her cousin fell."

So the knight did her will, but when he returned said--

"Diliana, if thou givest me so many nuts to crack when we are
married, methinks it will be an evil thing."

To which she answered mildly--

"No, dear George, after marriage it is the wife who cracks all the
hard nuts, but to-day, dearest, it is thy office. I know not why,
but I have a feeling over me to-day as if the soul of my poor
grandmother would be at rest after this execution, and that
Sidonia herself will be, in some sense, pardoned through the means
of that death-shift, No. 7; yet wherefore I think this I know
not."

Just then a dull, hoarse, murmuring sound was heard in the
distance, like the heaving of the waves when thunder is in the
air, and the Lady Matzke's maid rushed in exclaiming--"She's
coming! she's coming!" Then Diliana trembled and turned pale, but
still advanced to the balcony with her cousin and the young
knight.

At length the terrible sorceress herself appears in sight,
accompanied by the school, chanting the death-psalm. She wore a
white robe seamed with black, and Diliana recognises, with a
shudder, that this is indeed Clara's shift, for she had herself
thus stitched the seams in order to know it; but besides, the No.
7 was plainly discernible on the neck. She walked barefoot, and
round her head was bound a black fillet flowered with gold, from
beneath which her long white hair fluttered in the wind.

Diliana contemplates all this awhile shudderingly, then covers her
face with both hands, and sobs and weeps, so that the tears pour
down through the delicate little fingers, and my younker hath
enough to do to comfort her. But when the procession disappears
she dries her eyes, re-enters the chamber, and folding her hands
across her bosom, walks up and down, praying earnestly, until the
red Danish flag shoots up. Then she sighed deeply, and drying her
beautiful eyes again said softly--

"May God have mercy upon her soul, now her tortures are over!"

Scarcely are the words uttered ere a dense cloud of smoke ascends
above the fisher's house, rising higher and higher, like a lofty
black tower in the air, so that they all conjectured--"Now she is
burning on the pile," and shuddered, yet are content withal that
at last her fearful life has ended.

Then they all knelt down and repeated the Lord's Prayer; then
rising, addressed themselves in earnest for their homeward
journey.

And here, with the death of Sidonia, I might justly close my book,
merely stating in addition, that her ashes were laid in the burial
ground for the poor, and that some time after the gentle Diliana
caused a tombstone to be erected over them, out of Christian
charity and forgiveness. But as some say his Highness the Duke got
his death at the wedding of Diliana, I shall briefly narrate the
facts here, to please the curious reader.

For the said Duke was so much taken with the Malmsey wine, that he
sat up drinking the whole night, and next morning his legs were
swelled to that degree that his boots had to be cut oft with
knives. So that when the bridal pair arrived, his Grace had to
receive them in slippers, yet rejoiced much at hearing that all
was over; and then, scarcely giving Diliana time to recover
herself, despatched the whole company off to the church. Not,
however, without giving serious admonitions, both to the priest
and the knight, George, not to let the ring drop. For if Dr.
Luther, the thoughtless lubberhead, had not let the ring fall at
the wedding of his grandfather in Forgau, it would have been
better with him and his whole race, as his grandmother of blessed
memory had always said, and now indeed he saw she had spoken
wisely.

Now my Jobst in the confusion of voices, hearing only the word
"monk," thought his Grace was speaking of the monks' heads on the
capitals of the pillars in the hall. So seeing two empty flasks,
shouted, "Ay, that is for thee, monk!" and pitched them crash!
crash! with such force up at the monks, that the pieces flew about
the ears of the musicians who were to play before the bridal pair
going to church, and a loud peal of laughter rang through the
hall--after which they all set off for the wedding at last. And in
truth this was a blessed marriage.

But respecting the illustrious and princely race of Pomerania,
they perished each and all without leaving behind one single
inheritor of their name or possessions. Not, methinks, because of
the spell which the demoniac sorceress laid on them, but because
He loved this race so well, that He withdrew them from this evil
world before the dreadful strifes, wars, and calamities came upon
them, which our poor fatherland now endures. For before these
storms broke over our heads, He called them one by one from this
vale of tears, and truly, the first was his Highness Duke Francis,
for in a few months after Sidonia's execution, after a brief
illness, on the 27th December 1620, he fell asleep in God, aged 43
years, 8 months, and 3 days, without leaving children. The next
was Bishop Udalricus, who likewise became suddenly ill at
Pribbernow, near Stepnitz, with swollen body and limbs, and had to
lie there until his death, on the 31st October 1622, when, to the
great grief and consternation of the whole land, his young life
closed at the early age of 34 years, and he too left no children,
though he had a young and beautiful spouse. The next who died was
Duke Philip Julius of Wolgast, the only son of Ernest Ludovicus
and his spouse Hedwig. He was a wise and just ruler, but followed
the others soon, on the 16th February 1625, aged only 40 years, 1
month, and 28 days--likewise, as all the rest, left no children.

But our Lord God hath not withdrawn so many and noble princes from
the world without sending forth strange and wonderful signs to
forewarn the land; for, without speaking of the great thunderclap
which was heard all of a sudden in the middle of clear fine
weather, the winter after Sidonia's death, and the numberless mock
suns that appeared in different places, or of that strange rain,
when a sulphureous matter, like starch in appearance, fell from
the air (<i>item</i>, a snow-white pike was caught at Colzow in
Wellin, seven quarters long, and half an ell broad, with red round
eyes, and red fins), a stranger wonder than all was seen at
Wolgast; for suddenly, during a review held there, one of the
soldier's muskets went off without a finger being laid on it, and
the ball went right through the princely Pomeranian standard with
such precision, that the arms seemed to have been cut out all
round with a sharp knife. At Stettin also, in the castle-chapel,
one of the crowns suspended over the stalls fell down of itself;
but still more awful was what happened respecting Bogislaus XIII.,
last father of all the Pomeranian princes. For all along, by the
pillars of the aisle, there are figures in armour representing the
deceased dukes. And during the sermon one Sunday, the sword fell
clanging to the ground from the hand of the armed figure
representing Bogislaus XIII., though no human hand ever touched
it. At this sight every one was troubled in spirit, but woe, alas!
we now see what all these supernatural signs and wonders denoted!
Yet still we have one noble prince remaining with the ancient
blood of Pomerania in his veins. May the Lord God spare him long
to us, and bless him, like Abraham, with a son in his old age.
Such an Isaac would be a blessed sight to me; for when the last
branch falls, I know that my poor heart will break also!

DR. THEODORUS PLOeNNIES.




CONCLUSION.

<i>Mournful destiny of the last princely Pomeranian remains--My
visit to the ducal Pomeranian vault in Wolgast, on the 6th May
1840.</i>


Bogislaf XIV., who as a truth-loving, amicable, and pious
glossator, has annotated so many places in our text, found this
"last and happy hour," which he had so long desired, on the 10th
March 1637. When he had attained the age of fifty-seven years, his
death occurred at a period of unexampled misery, the like of which
before or since was never seen in our whole German fatherland. Yet
the destiny of the Zantalides which followed the princely
Pomeranian house, seemed in no way propitiated even by their
death. No; it raged, and rages still, against the last poor
remains of their mouldering clay. Bogislaff, during the horrors of
the thirty years' war, remained for <i>seventeen</i> years
unburied, because none of the princes who fought for the
possession of Pomerania' would consent to bear the expense of the
burial, and the land was too poor to take the cost upon itself.
Yet his corpse suffered no further indignities like those of his
princely kinsfolk of Wolgast. For after ninety-four years we find
him still lying calmly in his coffin, looking upward to his God
through the little window which he so often sighed after. We shall
first take a look at him before we descend into the Wolgast vault
to contemplate the disgusting sacrilege which has been perpetrated
and permitted there. Every reader of sensibility will feel
interested in the following details, which are taken from
Oelrich's valuable work, "Memorials of the Pomeranian Dukes," p.
87:--

"On the 19th of April 1731, a royal commission opened the vault in
the castle-church of Stettin, wherein many of the noble princes of
Pomerania lay buried, and the coffin of Duke Bogislaff was broken
open by especial command. The body was found quite perfect. Even
the face was tolerably preserved, though the eyes had fallen in;
for the skin had dried over the features, and the beard was long
and somewhat red; the coffin was lined throughout with violet
velvet (some say black), bordered with stones which had the
appearance of turquoise. The corpse was dressed in a surplice,
similar in form to that worn by priests at the present day, but
fringed with silver, and likewise ornamented with turquoise. Upon
the left hand there was a diamond ring and another. The diamond
was quite pale, and the right hand was lying close to the side, as
if going to seize the dagger. Farther, they found a long and
massive gold chain suspended round the neck, and upon the breast a
silver plate, like the bottom of a silver beaker, upon which the
Pomeranian arms were engraved.

"Beneath the coffin of this last Duke of Pomerania lay the ducal
flag, but the pole was broken in two, either from design or in
consequence of decay; and above the coffin were remains of crape
and mouldered fragments of velvet. <i>Lave anima pia!</i>

"But the princely remains of Wolgast had indeed a mournful
destiny. True; they were not left unburied for a number of years,
but they were plundered and outraged, in such a disgraceful and
revolting manner, by church-robbers, that it is impossible even to
read the account of it in the Swedish protocol of 21st June 1688,
from which Heller gives extracts in his 'Chronicle of the Town of
Wolgast,' p. 346, without as much pain as emotion.
[Footnote: Only one of these robbers was seized-he was whipped
and banished; the second hanged himself, and the other escaped.
One was a Jew; the other two were the sexton and gravedigger of
the church.]

"Yet the Swedish Government seemed content to rest with the simple
investigation, and took no trouble about, or showed the least
respect for, the ashes of those to whom they were indebted for
land and people. For the coffins lay there just as the robbers
left them--broken open with axes and hatchets, or wrenched asunder
with crowbars, and still lie in this state. However the vault was
closed up, and no one was permitted to enter it unless in the
presence of one of the reigning family; for this reason very few
ever beheld these mournful remains. I myself would probably never
have had an opportunity of so doing, only that the Prussian
Government resolved on building some additions to the Wolgast
church; and, at the same time, desired the foundation to be
evened, for it had sunk in various places, and afterwards to wall
up the princely vault for ever. In order to work at the
foundation, it was necessary to remove the great stone which
covered the entrance to the vault, and many along with myself
availed themselves of this last opportunity to visit the interior.
Therefore, on the day named above, I descended with deep emotion
the steps that led to it. I found the vault was divided into two
compartments, having vaulted roofs of about seven or eight feet
high. In the first partition no coffin whatever was to be seen,
but I could distinguish already the glitter of the tin coffins in
the second compartment, which was reached by a further descent of
a few steps, and lit up by the torches and lanterns of numerous
visitors who had preceded me. The coffins were nine in number, and
mostly covered with tin; each lay on a tressel of mason-work, and
bore the marks, more or less, of the violence that had been
employed to wrench them open.

"The strong Philip I. began the mournful range. A gentleman handed
me his skull, in which scarcely a tooth was wanting. Then I
searched in the adjoining coffin for that of his spouse Maria, 'my
gracious Lady of Wolgast,' of Doctor Theodore's History. I found
it, took it in the other hand, and cannot describe the strange
feeling which came over me.

"When I had indulged some time in strange and deep emotions, I
laid down the honourable relics again in their coffins, and
stepped to that of Ernest Ludovic, the unfortunate lover of the
still more unfortunate Sidonia. According to the protocol of 1688,
which I held in my hand, there was to be seen there a violet
velvet mantle, and a cap without anything inside. There they
were--nothing more to find--all fallen in dust, the weak head as
the weak heart! Close to him lay his unfortunate wife, Sophia
Hedwig of Brunswick, both the most beautiful persons of their
time.

"But my interest was excited most by the contemplation of Philip
Julius, the last Duke of Pommern-Wolgast, who has only received a
passing notice in this book, but who was one of the most gifted,
and probably the most lamented Prince of his thousand-year-old
race. His coffin was of far costlier workmanship than the others,
and decorated with a row of gilded angels' heads; near it stood
the black wooden tressel, upon which it had originally been
placed, and which looked as fresh as if it had been only just
placed there, instead of having lain in the vault for two hundred
and fifteen years. A strange sensation crept over me! We were both
silent, till at last the gentleman began to search with his hand
in the grey mouldering dust, and along with some rags of velvet,
he brought up a damp, discoloured scrap of paper, which he
carelessly tore; but I instantly seized it, and joined the pieces
together again, for the signification of such little notes in the
coffins of old times was not unknown to me.

"And, in fact, I found what I sought; there was not only marked on
it the date of the Duke's burial, the 6th of May, which had a
mystic significance to me, since it was on the very 6th of May
that I was now standing to contemplate these mute yet eloquent
graves, but also there was noted down the text from which the
funeral sermon had been preached (2 Tim. iv. 7), as well as the
list of the psalms sung on the occasion, among which the closing
psalm--'When sorrow assails thee,' is still to be found in most
hymn-books. But my poor old Pomeranian heart could bear no more: I
placed the paper again in the coffin; and, while the tears poured
from my eyes as I ascended the steps, those beautiful old verses
came into my head, and I could not help reciting them aloud:--

'So must human pomp and stat
In the grave lie desolate.
He who wore the kingly crown,
With the base worm lieth down:
Ermined robe, and purple pall,
Leaveth he at death's weird call.

Fleeting, cheating human life,
Souls are perilled in thy strife;
Yet the pomps in which we trust,
All must perish!--dust to dust.
God alone will ever be;
Who serves Him reigns eternally!'"




MARY SCHWEIDLER



THE AMBER WITCH



THE MOST INTERESTING TRIAL FOR WITCHCRAFT EVER KNOWN

PRINTED FROM AN IMPERFECT MANUSCRIPT BY HER FATHER ABRAHAM
SCHWEIDLER, THE PASTOR OP COSEROW IN THE ISLAND OF USEDOM

EDITED BY

WILLIAM MEINHOLD DOCTOR OF THEOLOGY

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN BY

LADY DUFF GORDON




PREFACE

In laying before the public this deeply affecting and romantic
trial, which I have not without reason called on the title-page
the most interesting of all trials for witchcraft ever known, I
will first give some account of the history of the manuscript.

At Coserow, in the island of Usedom, my former cure, the same
which was held by our worthy author some two hundred years ago,
there existed under a seat in the choir of the church a sort of
niche, nearly on a level with the floor. I had, indeed, often seen
a heap of various writings in this recess; but owing to my short
sight, and the darkness of the place, I had taken them for
antiquated hymn-books, which were lying about in great numbers.
But one day, while I was teaching in the church, I looked for a
paper mark in the Catechism of one of the boys, which I could not
immediately find; and my old sexton, who was past eighty (and who,
although called Appelmann, was thoroughly unlike his namesake in
our story, being a very worthy, although a most ignorant man),
stooped down to the said niche, and took from it a folio volume
which I had never before observed, out of which he, without the
slightest hesitation, tore a strip of paper suited to my purpose,
and reached it to me. I immediately seized upon the book, and,
after a few minutes' perusal, I know not which was greater, my
astonishment or my vexation at this costly prize. The manuscript,
which was bound in vellum, was not only defective both at the
beginning and at the end, but several leaves had even been torn
out here and there in the middle. I scolded the old man as I had
never done during the whole course of my life; but he excused
himself, saying that one of my predecessors had given him the
manuscript for waste paper, as it had lain about there ever since
the memory of man, and he had often been in want of paper to twist
round the altar-candles, &c. The aged and half-blind pastor had
mistaken the folio for old parochial accounts which could be of no
more use to any one.

 [Footnote: The original manuscript does indeed contain several
accounts which at first sight may have led to this mistake;
besides, the handwriting is extremely difficult to read, and in
several places the paper is discoloured and decayed.]


No sooner had I reached home than I fell to work upon my new
acquisition, and after reading a bit here and there with
considerable trouble, my interest was powerfully excited by the
contents.

I soon felt the necessity of making myself better acquainted with
the nature and conduct of these witch trials, with the
proceedings, nay, even with the history of the whole period in
which these events occur. But the more I read of these
extraordinary stories, the more was I confounded; and neither the
trivial Beeker (<i>Die bezauberte Welt</i>, "The Enchanted
World"), nor the more careful Horst (<i>Zauberbibliothek</i>, "The
Library of Magic"), to which, as well as to several other works on
the same subject, I had flown for information, could resolve my
doubts, but rather served to increase them.

Not alone is the demoniacal character, which pervades nearly all
these fearful stories, so deeply marked, as to fill the attentive
reader with feelings of alternate horror and dismay, but the
eternal and unchangeable laws of human feeling and action are
often arrested in a manner so violent and unforeseen, that the
understanding is entirely baffled. For instance, one of the
original trials which a friend of mine, a lawyer, discovered in
our province, contains the account of a mother, who, after she had
suffered the torture, and received the holy Sacrament, and was on
the point of going to the stake, so utterly lost all maternal
feeling, that her conscience obliged her to accuse as a witch her
only dearly loved daughter, a girl of fifteen, against whom no one
had ever entertained a suspicion, in order, as she said, to save
her poor soul. The court, justly amazed at an event which probably
has never since been paralleled, caused the state of the mother's
mind to be examined both by clergymen and physicians, whose
original testimonies are still appended to the records, and are
all highly favourable to her soundness of mind. The unfortunate
daughter, whose name was Elizabeth Hegel, was actually executed on
the strength of her mother's accusation. [Footnote: It is my
intention to publish this trial also, as it possesses very great
psychological interest.]

The explanation commonly received at the present day, that these
phenomena were produced by means of animal magnetism, is utterly
insufficient. How, for instance, could this account for the deeply
demoniacal nature of old Lizzie Kolken as exhibited in the
following pages? It is utterly incomprehensible, and perfectly
explains why the old pastor, notwithstanding the horrible deceits
practised on him in the person of his daughter, retained as firm a
faith in the truth of witchcraft as in that of the Gospel.

During the earlier centuries of the Middle Ages little was known
of witchcraft. The crime of magic, when it did occur, was
leniently punished. For instance, the council of Ancyra (314)
ordained the whole punishment of witches to consist in expulsion
from the Christian community. The Visigoths punished them with
stripes, and Charlemagne, by advice of his bishops, confined them
in prison until such time as they should sincerely repent.
[Footnote: Horst, <i>Zauberbibliothek</i>, vi. p. 231.] It was not
until very soon before the Reformation, that Innocent VIII.
lamented that the complaints of universal Christendom against the
evil practices of these women had become so general and so loud,
that the most vigorous measures must be taken against them; and
towards the end of the year 1489, he caused the notorious Hammer
for Witches (<i>Malleus Malleficarurn</i>) to be published,
according to which proceedings were set on foot with the most
fanatical zeal, not only in Catholic, but, strange to say, even in
Protestant Christendom, which in other respects abhorred
everything belonging to Catholicism. Indeed, the Protestants far
outdid the Catholics in cruelty, until, among the latter, the
nobleminded Jesuit, J. Spee, and among the former, but not until
seventy years later, the excellent Thomasius, by degrees put a
stop to these horrors.

After careful examination into the nature and characteristics of
witchcraft, I soon perceived that among all these strange and
often romantic stories, not one surpassed my "amber witch" in
lively interest; and I determined to throw her adventures into the
form of a romance. Fortunately, however, I was soon convinced that
her story was already in itself the most interesting of all
romances; and that I should do far better to leave it in its
original antiquated form, omitting whatever would be uninteresting
to modern readers, or so universally known as to need no
repetition. I have therefore attempted, not indeed to supply what
is missing at the beginning and end, but to restore those leaves
which have been torn out of the middle, imitating, as accurately
as I was able, the language and manner of the old biographer, in
order that the difference between the original narrative, and my
own interpolations, might not be too evident.

This I have done with much trouble, and after many ineffectual
attempts; but I refrain from pointing out the particular passages
which I have supplied, so as not to disturb the historical
interest of the greater part of my readers. For modern criticism,
which has now attained to a degree of acuteness never before
equalled, such a confession would be entirely superfluous, as
critics will easily distinguish the passages where Pastor
Schweidler speaks from those written by Pastor Meinhold.

I am, nevertheless, bound to give the public some account of what
I have omitted, namely--

1st. Such long prayers as were not very remarkable for Christian
unction.

2d. Well-known stories out of the Thirty Years' War.

3d. Signs and wonders in the heavens, which were seen here and
there, and which are recorded by other Pomeranian writers of these
fearful times; for instance, by Micraelius. [Footnote: Vom Alten
Pommerlande (Of Old Pomerania), book v.] But when these events
formed part of the tale itself, as, for instance, the cross on the
Streckelberg, I, of course, allowed them to stand.

4th. The specification of the whole income of the church at
Coserow, before and during the terrible times of the Thirty Years'
War.

5th. The enumeration of the dwellings left standing, after the
devastations made by the enemy in every village throughout the
parish.

6th. The names of the districts to which this or that member of
the congregation had emigrated.

7th. A ground plan and description of the old manse.

I have likewise here and there ventured to make a few changes in
the language, as my author is not always consistent in the use of
his words or in his orthography. The latter I have, however, with
very few exceptions, retained.

And thus I lay before the gracious reader a work, glowing with the
fire of heaven, as well as with that of hell.

MEINHOLD.




THE AMBER WITCH




INTRODUCTION.


The origin of our biographer cannot be traced with any degree of
certainty, owing to the loss of the first part of his manuscript.
It is, however, pretty clear that he was not a Pomeranian, as he
says he was in Silesia in his youth, and mentions relations
scattered far and wide, not only at Hamburg and Cologne, but even
at Antwerp; above all, his South-German language betrays a foreign
origin, and he makes use of words, which are, I believe, peculiar
to Swabia. He must, however, have been living for a long time in
Pomerania at the time he wrote, as he even more frequently uses
Low-German expressions, such as occur in contemporary native
Pomeranian writers.

Since he sprang from an ancient noble family, as he says on
several occasions, it is possible that some particulars relating
to the Schweidlers might be discovered in the family records of
the seventeenth century, which would give a clue to his native
country; but I have sought for that name in all the sources of
information accessible to me in vain, and am led to suspect that
our author, like many of his contemporaries, laid aside his
nobility and changed his name when he took holy orders.

I will not, however, venture on any further conjectures; the
manuscript, of which six chapters are missing, begins with the
words "Imperialists plundered," and evidently the previous pages
must have contained an account of the breaking out of the Thirty
Years' War in the island of Usedom. It goes on as follows:--

"Coffers, chests, and closets were all plundered and broken to
pieces, and my surplice also was torn, so that I remained in great
distress and tribulation. But my poor little daughter they did not
find, seeing that I had hidden her in the stable, which was dark,
without which I doubt not they would have made my heart heavy
indeed. The lewd dogs would even have been rude to my old maid
Ilse, a woman hard upon fifty, if an old cornet had not forbidden
them. Wherefore I gave thanks to my Maker when the wild guests
were gone, that I had first saved my child from their clutches,
although not one dust of flour, nor one grain of corn, nor one
morsel of meat even of a finger's length was left, and I knew not
how I should any longer support my own life, and my poor child's.
<i>Item</i>, I thanked God that I had likewise secured the <i>vasa
sacra</i>, which I had forthwith buried in the church in front of
the altar, in presence of the two churchwardens, Hienrich Seden
and Claus Bulken, of Uekeritze, commending them to the care of
God. And now because, as I have already said, I was suffering the
pangs of hunger, I wrote to his lordship the Sheriff Wittich v.
Appelmann, at Pudgla [Footnote: A castle in Usedom, formerly a
celebrated convent.], that for the love of God and His holy Gospel
he should send me that which his Highness' Grace Philippus Julius
had allowed me as <i>praestanda</i> from the convent at Pudgla, to
wit, thirty bushels of barley and twenty-five marks of silver,
which howbeit his lordship had always withheld from me hitherto
(for he was a very hard inhuman man, inasmuch as he despised the
holy Gospel and the preaching of the Word, and openly, without
shame, reviled the servants of God, saying that they were useless
feeders, and that Luther had but half cleansed the pig-stye of the
Church--God mend it!). But he answered me nothing, and I should
have perished for want if Hinrich Seden had not begged for me in
the parish. May God reward the honest fellow for it in eternity!
Moreover, he was then growing old, and was sorely plagued by his
wicked wife Lizzie Kolken. Methought when I married them that it
would not turn out over well, seeing that she was in common report
of having long lived in unchastity with Wittich Appelmann, who had
ever been an arch-rogue, and especially an arrant whoremaster, and
such the Lord never blesses. This same Seden now brought me five
loaves, two sausages, and a goose, which old goodwife Paal, at
Loddin, had given him; also a flitch of bacon from the farmer Jack
Tewert. But he said I must shield him from his wife, who would
have had half for herself, and when he denied her she cursed him,
and wished him gout in his head, whereupon he straightway felt a
pain in his right cheek, and it was quite hard and heavy already.
At such shocking news I was affrighted, as became a good pastor,
and asked whether peradventure he believed that she stood in evil
communication with Satan, and could bewitch folks? But he said
nothing, and shrugged his shoulders. So I sent for old Lizzie to
come to me, who was a tall, meagre woman of about sixty, with
squinting eyes, so that she could not look any one in the face;
likewise with quite red hair, and indeed her goodman had the same.
But though I diligently admonished her out of God's Word, she made
no answer, until at last I said, 'Wilt thou unbewitch thy goodman
(for I saw from the window how that he was raving in the street
like a madman), or wilt thou that I should inform the magistrate
of thy deeds?' Then, indeed, she gave in, and promised that he
should soon be better (and so he was); moreover she begged that I
would give her some bread and some bacon, inasmuch as it was three
days since she had had a bit of anything to put between her lips,
saving always her tongue. So my daughter gave her half a loaf, and
a piece of bacon about two hands-breadths large; but she did not
think it enough, and muttered between her teeth; whereupon my
daughter said, 'If thou art not content, thou old witch, go thy
ways and help thy goodman; see how he has laid his head on Zabel's
fence, and stamps with his feet for pain.' Whereupon she went
away, but still kept muttering between her teeth, 'Yea, forsooth,
I will help him and thee too.'"




CHAPTER VII.

<i>How the Imperialists robbed me of all that was left, and
likewise broke into the church and stole the Vasa Sacra; also what
more befell us.</i>


After a few days, when we had eaten almost all our food, my last
cow fell down dead (the wolves had already devoured the others, as
mentioned above), not without a strong suspicion that Lizzie had a
hand in it, seeing that the poor beast had eaten heartily the day
before; but I leave that to a higher judge, seeing that I would
not willingly calumniate any one; and it may have been the will of
God, whose wrath I have well deserved. <i>Summa</i>, I was once
more in great need, and my daughter Mary pierced my heart with her
sighs, when the cry was raised that another troop of Imperialists
was come to Uekeritze, and was marauding there more cruelly than
ever, and, moreover, had burnt half the village. Wherefore I no
longer thought myself safe in my cottage; and after I had
commended everything to the Lord in a fervent prayer, I went up
with my daughter and old Ilse into the Streckelberg, [Footnote: A
considerable mountain close to the sea near Coserow.] where I
already had looked out for ourselves a hole like a cavern, well
grown over with brambles, against the time when the troubles
should drive us thither. We therefore took with us all we had left
to us for the support of our bodies, and fled into the woods,
sighing and weeping, whither we soon were followed by the old men,
and the women and children; these raised a great cry of hunger
when they saw my daughter sitting on a log and eating a bit of
bread and meat, and the little things came with their tiny hands
stretched out and cried, "Have some too, have some too." Therefore
being justly moved by such great distress, I hindered not my
daughter from sharing all the bread and meat that remained among
the hungry children. But first I made them pray--"The eyes of all
wait upon Thee;" [Footnote: Ps. cxlv. 15, 16.] upon which words I
then spake comfortably to the people, telling them that the Lord,
who had now fed their little children, would find means to fill
their own bellies, and that they must not be weary of trusting in
Him.

This comfort did not, however, last long; for after we had rested
within and around the cavern for about two hours, the bells in the
village began to ring so dolefully, that it went nigh to break all
our hearts, the more as loud firing was heard between whiles;
<i>item</i>, the cries of men and the barking of dogs resounded,
so that we could easily guess that the enemy was in the village. I
had enough to do to keep the women quiet, that they might not by
their senseless lamentations betray our hiding-place to the cruel
enemy; and more still when it began to smell smoky, and presently
the bright flames gleamed through the trees. I therefore sent old
Paasch up to the top of the hill, that he might look around and
see how matters stood, but told him to take good care that they
did not see him from the village, seeing that the twilight had but
just begun.

This he promised, and soon returned with the news that about
twenty horsemen had galloped out of the village towards the
Damerow, but that half the village was in flames. <i>Item, he told
us that by a wonderful dispensation of God a great number of birds
had appeared in the juniper-bushes and elsewhere, and that if we
could catch them they would be excellent food for us. I therefore
climbed up the hill myself, and having found everything as he had
said, and also perceived that the fire had, by the help of God's
mercy, abated in the village; <i>item</i>, that my cottage was
left standing, far beyond my merits and deserts; I came down again
and comforted the people, saying, "The Lord hath given us a sign,
and He will feed us, as He fed the people of Israel in the
wilderness; for He has sent us a fine flight of fieldfares across
the barren sea, so that they whirr out of every bush as ye come
near it. Who will now run down into the village, and cut off the
mane and tail of my dead cow which lies out behind on the common?"
(for there was no horsehair in all the village, seeing that the
enemy had long since carried off or stabbed all the horses). But
no one would go, for fear was stronger even than hunger, till my
old Ilse spoke, and said, "I will go, for I fear nothing, when I
walk in the ways of God; only give me a good stick." When old
Paasch had lent her his staff, she began to sing, "God the Father
be with us," and soon out of sight among the bushes. Meanwhile I
exhorted the people to set to work directly, and to cut little
wands for syringes, and to gather berries while the moon still
shone; there were a great quantity of mountain-ash and
elder-bushes all about the mountain. I myself and my daughter Mary
stayed to guard the little children, because it was not safe there
from wolves. We therefore made a blazing fire, sat ourselves
around it, and heard the little folks say the Ten Commandments,
when there was a rustling and crackling behind us, and my daughter
jumped up and ran into the cavern, crying, "<i>Proh dolor
hostis!</i>" [Our author afterwards explains the learned education
of the maiden.] But it was only some of the able-bodied men who
had stayed behind in the village, and who now came to bring us
word how things stood there. I therefore called to her directly,
"<i>Emergas amici</i>," whereupon she came skipping joyously out,
and sat down again by the fire, and forthwith my warden Hinrich
Seden related all that had happened, and how his life had only
been saved by means of his wife Lizzie Kolken; but that Jurgen
Flatow, Chim Burse, Claus Peer, and Chim Seideritz were killed,
and the last named of them left lying on the church steps. The
wicked incendiaries had burned down twelve sheds, and it was not
their fault that the whole village was not destroyed, but only in
consequence of the wind not being in the quarter that suited their
purpose. Meanwhile they tolled the bells in mockery and scorn, to
see whether any one would come and quench the fire; and that when
he and the three other young fellows came forward they fired off
their muskets at them, but, by God's help, none of them were hit.
Hereupon his three comrades jumped over the paling and escaped;
but him they caught, and had already taken aim at him with their
firelocks, when his wife Lizzie Kolken came out of the church with
another troop and beckoned to them to leave him in peace. But they
stabbed Lene Hebers as she lay in childbed, speared the child, and
flung it over Claus Peer's hedge among the nettles, where it was
yet lying when they came away. There was not a living soul left in
the village, and still less a morsel of bread, so that unless the
Lord took pity on their need they must all die miserably of
hunger.

(Now who is to believe that such people can call themselves
Christians?)

I next inquired, when he had done speaking (but with many sighs,
as any one may guess), after my cottage; but of that they knew
naught save that it was still standing. I thanked the Lord
therefore with a quiet sigh; and having asked old Seden what his
wife had been doing in the church, I thought I should have died
for grief when I heard that the villains came out of it with both
the chalices and patens in their hands. I therefore spoke very
sharply to old Lizzie, who now came slinking through the bushes;
but she answered insolently, that the strange soldiers had forced
her to open the church, as her goodman had crept behind the hedge,
and nobody else was there; that they had gone straight up to the
altar, and seeing that one of the stones was not well fitted
(which, truly, was an arch lie), had begun to dig with their
swords till they found the chalices and patens; or somebody else
might have betrayed the spot to them, so I need not always to lay
the blame on her, and rate her so hardly.

Meanwhile the old men and the women came with a good store of
berries; <i>item</i>, my old maid, with the cow's tail and mane,
who brought word that the whole house was turned upside down, the
windows all broken, and the books and writings trampled in the
dirt in the midst of the street, and the doors torn off their
hinges. This, however, was a less sorrow to me than the chalices;
and I only bade the people make springes and snares, in order next
morning to begin our fowling, with the help of Almighty God. I
therefore scraped the rods myself until near midnight; and when we
had made ready a good quantity, I told old Seden to repeat the
evening blessing, which we all heard on our knees; after which I
wound up with a prayer, and then admonished the people to creep in
under the bushes to keep them from the cold (seeing that it was
now about the end of September, and the wind blew very fresh from
the sea), the men apart, and the women also apart by themselves. I
myself went up with my daughter and my maid into the cavern, where
I had not slept long before I heard old Seden moaning bitterly,
because, as he said, he was seized with the colic. I therefore got
up and gave him my place, and sat down again by the fire to cut
springes, till I fell asleep for half-an-hour; and then morning
broke, and by that time he had got better, and I woke the people
to morning prayer. This time old Paasch had to say it, but could
not get through with it properly, so that I had to help him.
Whether he had forgot it, or whether he was frightened, I cannot
say. <i>Summa</i>.--After we had all prayed most devoutly, we
presently set to work, wedging the springes into the trees, and
hanging berries all around them; while my daughter took care of
the children, and looked for blackberries for their breakfast. Now
we wedged the snares right across the wood along the road to
Uekeritze; and mark what a wondrous act of mercy befell from
gracious God! As I stepped into the road with the hatchet in my
hand (it was Seden his hatchet, which he had fetched out of the
village early in the morning), I caught sight of a loaf as long as
my arm which a raven was pecking, and which doubtless one of the
Imperial troopers had dropped out of his knapsack the day before,
for there were fresh hoof-marks in the sand by it. So I secretly
buttoned the breast of my coat over it, so that none should
perceive anything, although the aforesaid Paasch was close behind
me; <i>item</i>, all the rest followed at no great distance. Now,
having set the springes so very early, towards noon we found such
a great number of birds taken in them, that Katy Berow, who went
beside me while I took them out, scarce could hold them all in her
apron; and at the other end old Pagels pulled nearly as many out
of his doublet and coat-pockets. My daughter then sat down with
the rest of the womankind to pluck the birds; and as there was no
salt (indeed it was long since most of us had tasted any), she
desired two men to go down to the sea, and to fetch a little salt
water in an iron pot borrowed from Staffer Zuter; and so they did.
In this water we first dipped the birds, and then roasted them at
a large fire, while our mouths watered only at the sweet savour of
them, seeing it was so long since we had tasted any food.

And now when all was ready, and the people seated on the earth, I
said, "Behold how the Lord still feeds His people Israel in the
wilderness with fresh quails: if now He did yet more, and sent us
a piece of manna bread from heaven, what think ye? Would ye then
ever weary of believing in Him, and not rather willingly endure
all want, tribulation, hunger and thirst, which He may hereafter
lay upon you according to His gracious will?" Whereupon they all
answered and said, "Yea, surely!" <i>Ego</i>: "Will you then
promise me this in truth?" And they said again, "Yea, that will
we!" Then with tears I drew forth the loaf from my breast, held it
on high, and cried, "Behold then, thou poor believing little
flock, how sweet a manna loaf your faithful Redeemer hath sent ye
through me!" Whereupon they all wept, sobbed and groaned; and the
little children again came running up and held out their hands,
crying, "See, bread, bread!" But as I myself could not pray for
heaviness of soul, I bade Paasch his little girl say the
<i>Gratias</i> the while my Mary cut up the loaf and gave to each
his share. And now we all joyfully began to eat our meat from God
in the wilderness.

Meanwhile I had to tell in what manner I had found the blessed
manna bread, wherein I neglected not again to exhort them to lay
to heart this great sign and wonder, how that God in His mercy had
done to them as of old to the prophet Elijah, to whom a raven
brought bread in his great need in the wilderness; as likewise
this bread had been given to me by means of a raven, which showed
it to me, when otherwise I might have passed it by in my heaviness
without ever seeing it.

When we were satisfied with food, I said the thanksgiving from
Luke xii. 24, where the Lord saith, "Consider the ravens: for they
neither sow nor reap; which neither have storehouse nor barn; and
God feedeth them: how much more are ye better than the fowls?" But
our sins stank before the Lord. For old Lizzie, as I afterwards
heard, would not eat her birds because she thought them unsavoury,
but threw them among the juniper bushes; whereupon the wrath of
the Lord was kindled against us as of old against the people of
Israel, and at night we found but seven birds in the snares, and
next morning but two. Neither did any raven come again to give us
bread. Wherefore I rebuked old Lizzie, and admonished the people
to take upon themselves willingly the righteous chastisement of
the Most High God, to pray without ceasing, to return to their
desolate dwellings, and to see whether the all-merciful God would
peradventure give them more on the sea. That I also would call
upon Him with prayer night and day, remaining for a time in the
cavern with my daughter and the maid to watch the springes, and
see whether His wrath might be turned from us. That they should,
meanwhile put my manse to rights to the best of their power,
seeing that the cold was become very irksome to me. This they
promised me, and departed with many sighs. What a little flock! I
counted but twenty-five souls where there used to be above eighty;
all the rest had been slain by hunger, pestilence, or the sword.
[Footnote: This took place in the year 1628, and the horrors of
the Thirty Years' War were spread most fearfully over this island;
pity that the description of the old vicar, which he doubtless
gave in the preceding pages, has been lost.] I then abode awhile
alone and sorrowing in the cave, praying to God, and sent my
daughter with the maid into the village to see how things stood at
the manse; <i>item</i>, to gather together the books and papers,
and also to bring me word whether Hinze the carpenter, whom I had
straightway sent back to the village, had knocked together some
coffins for the poor corpses, so that I might bury them next day.
I then went to look at the springes, but found only one single
little bird, whereby I saw that the wrath of God had not yet
passed away. Howbeit, I found a fine blackberry bush, from which I
gathered nearly a pint of berries, and put them, together with the
bird, in Staffer Zuter his pot, which the honest fellow had left
with us for a while, and set them on the fire for supper against
my child and the maid should return. It was not long before they
came through the coppice, and told me of the fearful devastation
which Satan had made in the village and manse by the permission of
all-righteous God. My child had gathered together a few books,
which she brought with her, above all, a <i>Virgilius</i> and a
Greek Bible. And after she had told me that the carpenter would
not have done till next day, and we had satisfied the cravings of
hunger, I made her read to me again, for the greater strengthening
of my faith, the <i>locus</i> about the blessed raven from the
Greek of Luke, at the twelfth chapter; also, the beautiful
<i>locus parallelus</i>, Matt. vi. After which the maid said the
evening blessing, and we all went into the cave to rest for the
night. When I awoke next morning, just as the blessed sun rose out
the sea and peeped over the mountain, I heard my poor hungry
child, already standing outside the cave, reciting the beautiful
verses about the joys of paradise which St. Augustine wrote and I
had taught her. [Footnote: This is an error. The following verses
are written by the Cardinal Bishop of Ostia, Peter Damianus (d.
23d Feb. 1072), after Augustine's prose.] She sobbed for grief as
she spoke the words:--

  "Uno pane vivunt cives utriusque patriae
  Avidi et semper pleni, quod habent desiderant
  Non <i>sacietas</i> fastidit, neque fames cruciat
  Inhiantes semper edunt, et edentes inhiant
  Flos perpetuus rosarum ver agit perpetuum,
  Candent lilia, rubescit crocus, sudat balsamum,
  Virent prata, vernant sata, rivi mellis influunt
  Pigmentorum spirat odor liquor et aromatum,
  Pendent poma floridorum non lapsura nemorum
  Non alternat luna vices, sol vel cursus syderum
  Agnus est fcelicis urbis lumen inocciduum."

 [Footnote:  The following version is from the pen of a
friend.--<i>Trans</i>.

  "In that far land the citizens all share one equal bread,
  And keep desire and hunger still, although to fulness fed:
  Unwearied by satiety, unracked by hunger's strife,
  The air they breathe is nourishment, and spiritual life!
  Around them, bright with endless Spring, perpetual roses bloom;
  Warm balsams gratefully exude luxurious perfume;
  Red crocuses, and lilies white, shine dazzling in the sun;
  Green meadows yield them harvests green, and streams with honey
run;
  Unbroken droop the laden boughs, with heavy fruitage bent,
  Of incense and of odours strange the air is redolent;
  And neither sun, nor moon, nor stars, dispense their changeful
light,
  But the Lamb's eternal glory makes the happy city bright!"

At these words my own heart was melted; and when she ceased from
speaking, I asked, "What art thou doing, my child?" Whereupon she
answered, "Father, I am eating." Thereat my tears now indeed began
to flow, and I praised her for feeding her soul, as she had no
meat for her body. I had not, however, spoken long, before she
cried to me to come and look at the great wonder that had risen
out of the sea, and already appeared over the cave. For behold a
cloud, in shape just like a cross, came over us, and let great
heavy drops, as big or bigger than large peas, fall on our heads,
after which it sank behind the coppice. I presently arose, and ran
up the mountain with my daughter to look after it. It floated on
towards the Achterwater, [Footnote: A wash formed by the river
Peene in the neighbourhood.] where it spread itself out into a
long blue streak, whereon the sun shone so brightly that it seemed
like a golden bridge, on which, as my child said, the blessed
angels danced. I fell on my knees with her, and thanked the Lord
that our cross had passed away from us; but, alas! our cross was
yet to come, as will be told hereafter.




CHAPTER VIII.

<i>How our need waxed sorer and sorer, and how I sent old Ilse
with another letter to Pudgla, and how heavy a misfortune this
brought upon me</i>.


Next day, when I had buried the poor corpses amid the lamentations
of the whole village (by the same token that they were all buried
under where the lime-tree overhangs the wall [Footnote: This
exists no longer.]), I heard with many sighs that neither the sea
nor the Achterwater would yield anything. It was now ten days
since the poor people had caught a single fish. I therefore went
out into the field, musing how the wrath of the just God might be
turned from us, seeing that the cruel winter was now at hand, and
neither corn, apples, fish nor flesh, to be found in the village,
nor even throughout all the parish. There was indeed plenty of
game in the forests of Coserow and Uekeritze; but the old forest
ranger, Zabel Nehring, had died last year of the plague, and there
was no new one in his place. Nor was there a musket nor a grain of
powder to be found in all the parish; the enemy had robbed and
broken everything: we were therefore forced, day after day, to see
how the stags and the roes, the hares and the wild boars, &c., ran
past us, when we would so gladly have had them in our bellies, but
had no means of getting at them: for they were too cunning to let
themselves be caught in pit-falls. Nevertheless, Claus Peer
succeeded in trapping a roe, and gave me a piece of it, for which
may God reward him. <i>Item</i>, of domestic cattle there was not
a head left; neither was there a dog nor a cat, which the people
had not either eaten in their extreme hunger, or knocked on the
head, or drowned long since. Albeit old farmer Paasch still owned
two cows; <i>item</i>, an old man in Uekeritze was said to have
one little pig--this was all. Thus, then, nearly all the people
lived on blackberries and other wild fruits; the which also soon
grew to be scarce, as may easily be guessed. Besides all this, a
boy of fourteen was missing (old Labahn his son), and was never
more heard of, so that I shrewdly think that the wolves devoured
him.

And now let any Christian judge by his own heart in what sorrow
and heaviness I took my staff in my hand, seeing that my child
fell away like a shadow from pinching hunger; although I myself,
being old, did not, by the help of God's mercy, find any great
failing in my strength. While I thus went continually weeping
before the Lord, on the way to Uekeritze, I fell in with an old
beggar with his wallet, sitting on a stone, and eating a piece of
God's rare gift, to wit, a bit of bread. Then truly did my poor
mouth so fill with water, that I was forced to bow my head and let
it run upon the earth before I could ask, "Who art thou? and
whence comest thou, seeing that thou hast bread?" Whereupon he
answered that he was a poor man of Bannemin, from whom the enemy
had taken all; and as he had heard that the Lieper Winkel
[Footnote: A remote part of the island of Usedom.] had long been
in peace, he had travelled thither to beg. I straightway answered
him, "Oh, poor beggar man, spare to me, a sorrowful servant of
Christ, who is poorer even than thyself, one little slice of bread
for his wretched child; for thou must know that I am the pastor of
this village, and that my daughter is dying of hunger. I beseech
thee, by the living God, not to let me depart without taking pity
on me, as pity also hath been shown to thee!" But the beggar man
would give me none, saying that he himself had a wife and four
children, who were likewise staggering towards death's door under
the bitter pangs of hunger; that the famine was sorer far in
Bannemin than here, where we still had berries; whether I had not
heard that but a few days ago a woman (he told me her name, but
horror made me forget it) had there killed her own child, and
devoured it from hunger? [Footnote: Micraslius also mentions this
horrible event in his History of Pomerania.] That he could not
therefore help me, and I might go to the Lieper Winkel myself.

I was horror-stricken at his tale, as is easy to guess, for we in
our own trouble had not yet heard of it, there being little or no
traffic between one village and another; and thinking on
Jerusalem, [Footnote: Where, according to Josephus, the same thing
occurred.] and sheer despairing because the Lord had visited us,
as of old that ungodly city, although we had not betrayed or
crucified Him, I almost forgot all my necessities, and took my
staff in my hand to depart. But I had not gone more than a few
yards when the beggar called me to stop, and when I turned myself
round he came towards me with a good hunch of bread which he had
taken out of his wallet, and said, "There! but pray for me also,
so that I may reach my home; for if on the road they smell that I
have bread, my own brother would strike me dead, I believe." This
I promised with joy, and instantly turned back to take to my child
the gift hidden in my pocket. And behold, when I came to the road
which leads to Loddin, I could scarce trust my eyes (before I had
overlooked it in my distress) when I saw my glebe, which could
produce seven bushels, ploughed, sown, and in stalk; the blessed
crop of rye had already shot lustily out of the earth a finger's
length in height. I could not choose but think that the evil one
had deceived me with a false show, yet, however hard I rubbed my
eyes, rye it was, and rye it remained. And seeing that old Paasch
his piece of land which joined mine was in like manner sown, and
that the blades had shot up to the same height, I soon guessed
that the good fellow had done this deed, seeing that all the other
land lay waste. Wherefore, I readily forgave him for not knowing
the morning prayer; and thanking the Lord for so much love from my
flock, and earnestly beseeching Him to grant me strength and faith
to bear with them, steadfastly and patiently, all the troubles and
adversities which it might please Him henceforward to lay upon us,
according to His divine pleasure, I ran rather than walked back
into the village to old Paasch his farm, where I found him just
about to kill his cow, which he was slaughtering from grim hunger.
"God bless thee," said I, "worthy friend, for sowing my field, how
shall I reward thee?" But the old man answered, "Let that be, and
do you pray for us;" and when I gladly promised this, and asked
him how he had kept his corn safe from the savage enemy, he told
me that he had hidden it secretly in the caves of the
Streckelberg, but that now all his store was used up. Meanwhile he
cut a fine large piece of meat from the top of the loin, and said,
"There is something for you, and when that is gone you can come
again for more." As I was then about to go with many thanks, his
little Mary, a child nearly seven years old, the same who had said
the <i>Gratlas</i> on the Streckelberg, seized me by the hand, and
wanted to go to school to my daughter; for since my <i>Custos</i>,
as above mentioned, departed this life in the plague, she had to
teach the few little ones there were in the village; this,
however, had long been abandoned. I could not, therefore, deny
her, although I feared that my child would share her bread with
her, seeing that she dearly loved the little maid, who was her
godchild; and so indeed it happened; for when the child saw me
take out the bread, she shrieked for joy, and began to scramble up
on the bench. Thus she also got a piece of the slice, our maid got
another, and my child put the third piece into her own mouth, as I
wished for none, but said that I felt no signs of hunger, and
would wait until the meat was boiled, the which I now threw upon
the bench. It was a goodly sight to see the joy which my poor
child felt, when I then also told her about the rye. She fell upon
my neck, wept, sobbed, then took the little one up in her arms,
danced about the room with her, and recited, as she was wont, all
manner of Latin <i>versus</i>, which she knew by heart. Then she
would prepare a right good supper for us, as a little salt was
still left in the bottom of a barrel of meat which the
Imperialists had broken up. I let her take her own way, and having
scraped some soot from the chimney and mixed it with water, I tore
a blank leaf out of <i>Virgillus</i>, and wrote to the <i>Pastor
Liepensts</i>, his reverence Abraham Tiburtius, praying that for
God His sake he would take our necessities to heart, and would
exhort his parishioners to save us from dying of grim hunger, and
charitably to spare to us some meat and drink, according as the
all-merciful God had still left some to them, seeing that a beggar
had told me that they had long been in peace from the terrible
enemy. I knew not, however, wherewithal to seal the letter, until
I found in the church a little wax still sticking to a wooden
altar-candlestick, which the Imperialists had not thought it worth
their while to steal, for they had only taken the brass ones. I
sent three fellows in a boat with Hinrich Seden, the churchwarden,
with this letter to Liepe.

First, however, I asked my old Ilse, who was born in Liepe,
whether she would not rather return home, seeing how matters
stood, and that I, for the present at least, could not give her a
stiver of her wages (mark that she had already saved up a small
sum, seeing that she had lived in my service above twenty years,
but the soldiers had taken it all). Howbeit, I could nowise
persuade her to this, but she wept bitterly, and besought me only
to let her stay with the good damsel whom she had rocked in her
cradle. She would cheerfully hunger with us if it needs must be,
so that she were not turned away. Whereupon, I yielded to her, and
the others went alone.

Meanwhile the broth was ready, but scarce had we said the
<i>Gratias</i>, and were about to begin our meal, when all the
children of the village, seven in number, came to the door, and
wanted bread, as they had heard we had some from my daughter her
little godchild. Her heart again melted, and notwithstanding I
besought her to harden herself against them, she comforted me with
the message to Liepe, and poured out for each child a portion of
broth on a wooden platter (for these also had been despised by the
enemy), and put into their little hands a bit of meat, so that all
our store was eaten up at once. We were, therefore, left fasting
next morning, till towards midday, when the whole village gathered
together in a meadow on the banks of the river to see the boat
return. But, God be merciful to us, we had cherished vain hopes!
six loaves and a sheep, <i>item</i>, a quarter of apples, was all
they had brought. His reverence Abraham Tiburtius wrote to me that
after the cry of their wealth had spread throughout the island, so
many beggars had flocked thither that it was impossible to be just
to all, seeing that they themselves did not know how it might fare
with them in these heavy troublous times. Meanwhile he would see
whether he could raise any more. I therefore with many sighs had
the small pittance carried to the manse, and though two loaves
were, as <i>Pastor Liepensis</i> said in his letter, for me alone,
I gave them up to be shared among all alike, whereat all were
content save Seden his squint-eyed wife, who would have had
somewhat extra on the score of her husband's journey, which,
however, as may be easily guessed, she did not get; wherefore she
again muttered certain words between her teeth as she went away,
which, however, no one understood. Truly she was an ill woman, and
not to be moved by the Word of God.

Any one may judge for himself that such a store could not last
long; and as all my parishioners felt an ardent longing after
spiritual food, and as I and the churchwardens could only get
together about sixteen farthings in the whole parish, which was
not enough to buy bread and wine, the thought struck me once more
to inform my lord the sheriff of our need. With how heavy a heart
I did this may be easily guessed, but necessity knows no law. I
therefore tore the last blank leaf out of <i>Virgilius</i>, and
begged that, for the sake of the Holy Trinity, his lordship would
mercifully consider mine own distress and that of the whole
parish, and bestow a little money to enable me to administer the
Holy Sacrament for the comfort of afflicted souls; also, if
possible, to buy a cup, were it only of tin, since the enemy had
plundered us of ours, and I should otherwise be forced to
consecrate the sacred elements in an earthen vessel. <i>Item</i>,
I besought him to have pity on our bodily wants, and at last to
send me the first-fruits which had stood over for so many years.
That I did not want it for myself alone, but would willingly share
it with my parishioners, until such time as God in His mercy
should give us more.

Here a huge blot fell upon my paper; for the windows being boarded
up, the room was dark, and but little light came through two small
panes of glass, which I had broken out of the church, and stuck in
between the boards: this, perhaps, was the reason why I did not
see better. However, as I could not anywhere get another piece of
paper, I let it pass, and ordered the maid, whom I sent with the
letter to Pudgla, to excuse the same to his lordship the sheriff,
the which she promised to do; seeing that I could not add a word
more on the paper, as it was written all over. I then sealed it as
I had done before.

But the poor creature came back trembling for fear, and bitterly
weeping, and said that his lordship had kicked her out of the
castle-gate, and had threatened to set her in the stocks if she
ever came before him again. "Did the parson think that he was as
free with his money as I seemed to be with my ink? I surely had
water enough to celebrate the Lord's Supper wherewithal. For if
the Son of God had once changed the water into wine, He could
surely do the like again. If I had no cup, I might water my flock
out of a bucket, as he did himself;" with many more blasphemies,
such as he afterwards wrote to me, and by which, as may easily be
guessed, I was filled with horror. Touching the first-fruits, as
she told me, he said nothing at all. In such great spiritual and
bodily need the blessed Sunday came round, when nearly all the
congregation would have come to the Lord's table, but could not. I
therefore spoke on the words of St. Augustine, <i>crede et
manducasti</i>, and represented that the blame was not mine, and
truly told what had happened to my poor maid at Pudgla, passing
over much in silence, and only praying God to awaken the hearts of
magistrates for our good. Peradventure I may have spoken more
harshly than I meant. I know not; only that I spoke that which was
in my heart. At the end I made all the congregation stay on their
knees for nearly an hour, and call upon the Lord for His holy
Sacrament; <i>item</i>, for the relief of their bodily wants, as
had been done every Sunday, and at all the daily prayers I had
been used to read ever since the heavy time of the plague. Last of
all, I led the glorious hymn, "When in greatest need we be," which
was no sooner finished than my new churchwarden, Claus Bulk of
Uekeritze, who had formerly been a groom with his lordship, and
whom he had now put into a farm, ran off to Pudgla, and told him
all that had taken place in the church. Whereat his lordship was
greatly angered, insomuch that he summoned the whole parish, which
still numbered about 150 souls, without counting the children, and
dictated <i>ad protocollum</i> whatsoever they could remember of
the sermon, seeing that he meant to inform his princely Grace the
Duke of Pomerania of the blasphemous lies which I had vomited
against him, and which must sorely offend every Christian heart.
<i>Item</i>, what an avaricious wretch I must be to be always
wanting something of him, and to be daily, so to say, pestering
him in these hard times with my filthy letters, when he had not
enough to eat himself. This, he said, should break the parson his
neck, since his princely Grace did all that he asked of him; and
that no one in the parish need give me anything more, but only let
me go my ways. He would soon take care that they should have quite
a different sort of parson from what I was.

(Now I would like to see the man who could make up his mind to
come into the midst of such wretchedness at all.)

This news was brought to me in the self-same night, and gave me a
great fright, as I now saw that I should not have a gracious
master in his lordship, but should all the time of my miserable
life, even if I could anyhow support it, find in him an ungracious
lord. But I soon felt some comfort, when Chim Krueger, from
Uekeritze, who brought me the news, took a little bit of his
sucking-pig out of his pocket and gave it to me. Meanwhile old
Paasch came in and said the same, and likewise brought me a piece
of his old cow; <i>item</i>, my other warden, Hinrich Seden, with
a slice of bread, and a fish which he had taken in his net; all
saying they wished for no better priest than me, and that I was
only to pray to the merciful Lord to bestow more upon them,
whereupon I should want for nothing. Meanwhile I must be quiet,
and not betray them. All this I promised; and my daughter Mary
took the blessed gifts of God off the table and carried them into
the inner chamber. But, alas! next morning, when she would have
put the meat into the cauldron, it was all gone. I know not who
prepared this new sorrow for me, but much believe it was Hinrich
Seden his wicked wife, seeing he can never hold his tongue, and
most likely told her everything. Moreover, Paasch his little
daughter saw that she had meat in her pot next day; <i>item</i>,
that she had quarrelled with her husband, and had flung the
fish-board at him, whereon some fresh fish-scales were sticking:
she had, however, presently recollected herself when she saw the
child. (Shame on thee, thou old witch, it is true enough, I dare
say!) Hereupon naught was left us but to feed our poor souls with
the Word of God. But even our souls were so cast down that they
could receive naught, any more than our bellies; my poor child,
especially, from day to day grew paler, greyer, and yellower, and
always threw up all her food, seeing she ate it without salt or
bread. I had long wondered that the bread from Liepe was not yet
done, but that every day at dinner I still had a morsel. I had
often asked, "Whence comes all this blessed bread? I believe,
after all, you save the whole for me, and take none for yourself
or the maid." But they both then lifted to their mouths a piece of
fir-tree bark, which they had cut to look like bread, and laid by
their plates; and as the room was dark, I did not find out their
deceit, but thought that they too were eating bread. But at last
the maid told me of it, so that I should allow it no longer, as my
daughter would not listen to her. It is not hard to guess how my
heart was wrung when I saw my poor child lying on her bed of moss
struggling with grim hunger. But things were to go yet harder with
me, for the Lord in His anger would break me in pieces like a
potter's vessel. For behold, on the evening of the same day, old
Paasch came running to me, complaining that all his and my corn in
the field had been pulled up and miserably destroyed, and that it
must have been done by Satan himself, as there was not a trace
either of oxen or horses. At these words my poor child screamed
aloud and fainted. I would have run to help her, but could not
reach her bed, and fell on the ground myself for bitter grief. The
loud cries of the maid and old Paasch soon brought us both to our
senses. But I could not rise from the ground alone, for the Lord
had bruised all my bones. I besought them, therefore, when they
would have helped me, to leave me where I was; and when they would
not, I cried out that I must again fall on the ground to pray, and
begged them all save my daughter to depart out of the room. This
they did, but the prayer would not come. I fell into heavy
doubting and despair, and murmured against the Lord that He
plagued me more sorely than Lazarus or Job. Wretch that I was, I
cried, "Thou didst leave to Lazarus at least the crumbs and the
pitiful dogs, but to me Thou hast left nothing, and I myself am
less in Thy sight even than a dog; and Job Thou didst not afflict
until Thou hadst mercifully taken away his children, but to me
Thou hast left my poor little daughter, that her torments may
increase mine own a thousandfold. Behold, then, I can only pray
that Thou wilt take her from the earth, so that my grey head may
gladly follow her to the grave! Woe is me, ruthless father, what
have I done? I have eaten bread, and suffered my child to hunger!
O Lord Jesu, who hast said, 'What man is there of you, whom if his
son ask bread will he give him a stone?' Behold, I am that
man!--behold, I am that ruthless father! I have eaten bread, and
have given wood to my child! Punish me; I will bear it and lie
still. O righteous Jesu, I have eaten bread, and have given wood
to my child!" As I did not speak, but rather shrieked these words,
wringing my hands the while, my child fell upon my neck, sobbing,
and chide me for murmuring against the Lord, seeing that even she,
a weak and frail woman, had never doubted His mercy; so that with
shame and repentance I presently came to myself, and humbled
myself before the Lord for such heavy sin.

Meanwhile the maid had run into the village with loud cries to see
if she could get anything for her poor young mistress, but the
people had already eaten their noontide meal, and most of them
were gone to sea to seek their blessed supper; thus she could find
nothing, seeing that old wife Seden, who alone had any victuals,
would give her none, although she prayed her by Jesu's wounds.

She was telling us this when we heard a noise in the chamber, and
presently Lizzie her worthy old husband, who had got in at the
window by stealth, brought us a pot of good broth, which he had
taken off the fire whilst his wife was gone for a moment into the
garden. He well knew that his wife would make him pay for it, but
that he did not mind, so the young mistress would but drink it,
and she would find it salted and all. He would make haste out of
the window again, and see that he got home before his wife, that
she might not find out where he had been. But my daughter would
not touch the broth, which sorely vexed him, so that he set it
down on the ground cursing, and ran out of the room. It was not
long before his squint-eyed wife came in at the front door, and
when she saw the pot still steaming on the ground, she cried out,
"Thou thief, thou cursed thieving carcass!" and would have flown
at the face of my maid. But I threatened her, and told her all
that had happened, and that if she would not believe me, she might
go into the chamber and look out of the window, whence she might
still, belike, see her goodman running home. This she did, and
presently we heard her calling after him, "Wait, and the devil
shall tear off thine arms, only wait till thou art home again!"
After this she came back, and, muttering something, took the pot
off the ground. I begged her, for the love of God, to spare a
little to my child; but she mocked at me and said, "You can preach
to her, as you did to me," and walked towards the door with the
pot. My child indeed besought me to let her go, but I could not
help calling after her, "For the love of God, one good sup, or my
poor child must give up the ghost: wilt thou that at the day of
judgment God should have mercy on thee, so show mercy this day to
me and mine!" But she scoffed at us again, and cried out, "Let her
cook herself some bacon," and went out at the door. I then sent
the maid after her with the hour-glass which stood before me on
the table, to offer it to her for a good sup out of the pot; but
the maid brought it back, saying that she would not have it. Alas,
how I wept and sobbed, as my poor dying child with a loud sigh
buried her head again in the moss! Yet the merciful God was more
gracious to me than my unbelief had deserved; for when the
hard-hearted woman bestowed a little broth on her neighbour, old
Paasch, he presently brought it to my child, having heard from the
maid how it stood with her; and I believe that this broth, under
God, alone saved her life, for she raised her head as soon as she
had supped it, and was able to go about the house again in an
hour. May God reward the good fellow for it! Thus I had some joy
in the midst of my trouble. But while I sat by the fireside in the
evening musing on my fate, my grief again broke forth, and I made
up my mind to leave my house, and even my cure, and to wander
through the wide world with my daughter as a beggar. God knows I
had cause enough for it; for now that all my hopes were dashed,
seeing that my field was quite ruined, and that the sheriff had
become my bitter enemy, moreover that it was five years since I
had had a wedding, <i>item</i>, but two christenings during the
past year, I saw my own and my daughter's death staring me in the
face, and no prospect of better times at hand. Our want was
increased by the great fears of the congregation; for although by
God's wondrous mercy they had already begun to take good draughts
of fish both in the sea and the Achterwater, and many of the
people in the other villages had already gotten bread, salt,
oatmeal, &c., from the Pokers and Quatzners of Anklam and Lassan
[Footnote: These people still go about the Achterwater every day
in small boats called Polten and Quatzen, and buy from the boors
any fish they may have caught.] in exchange for their fish;
nevertheless, they brought me nothing, fearing lest it might be
told at Pudgla, and make his lordship ungracious to them. I
therefore beckoned my daughter to me, and told her what was in my
thoughts, saying that God, in His mercy, could any day bestow on
me another cure if I was found worthy in His sight of such a
favour, seeing that these terrible days of pestilence and war had
called away many of the servants of His Word, and that I had not
fled like a hireling from His flock, but, on the contrary, till
<i>datum</i> shared sorrow and death with it. Whether she were
able to walk five or ten miles a day; for that then we would beg
our way to Hamburg, to my departed wife her stepbrother, Martin
Behring, who is a great merchant in that city.

This at first sounded strange to her, seeing that she had very
seldom been out of our parish, and that her departed mother and
her little brother lay in our churchyard. She asked, "Who was to
make up their graves and plant flowers on them? <i>Item</i>, as
the Lord had given her a smooth face, what I should do if in these
wild and cruel times she were attacked on the highways by
marauding soldiers or other villains, seeing that I was a weak old
man and unable to defend her; <i>item</i>, wherewithal should we
shield ourselves from the frost, as the winter was setting in, and
the enemy had robbed us of our clothes, so that we had scarce
enough left to cover our nakedness?" All this I had not
considered, and was forced to own that she was right; so after
much discussion we determined to leave it this night to the Lord,
and to do whatever He should put into our hearts next morning. At
any rate, we saw that we could in nowise keep the old maid any
longer; I therefore called her out of the kitchen, and told her
she had better go early next morning to Liepe, as there still was
food there, whereas here she must starve, seeing that perhaps we
ourselves might leave the parish and the country to-morrow. I
thanked her for the love and faith she had shown us, and begged
her at last, amid the loud sobs of my poor daughter, to depart
forthwith privately, and not to make our hearts still heavier by
leave-taking; that old Paasch was going a-fishing to-night on the
Achterwater, as he had told me, and no doubt would readily set her
on shore at Grussow, where she had friends, and could eat her fill
even to-day. She could not say a word for weeping, but when she
saw that I was really in earnest she went out of the room. Not
long after we heard the house-door shut to, whereupon my daughter
moaned, "She is gone already," and ran straight to the window to
look after her. "Yes," cried, she, as she saw her through the
little panes, "she is really gone;" and she wrung her hands and
would not be comforted. At last, however, she was quieted when I
spoke of the maid Hagar, whom Abraham had likewise cast off, but
on whom the Lord had nevertheless shown mercy in the wilderness;
and hereupon we commended ourselves to the Lord, and stretched
ourselves on our couches of moss.




CHAPTER IX.

<i>How the old maid-servant humbled me by her faith, and the Lord
yet blessed me His unworthy servant</i>.


"Bless the Lord, O my soul; and all that is within me, bless His
holy name. Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all His
benefits. Who forgiveth all thine iniquities; who healeth all thy
diseases; who redeemeth thy life from destruction; who crowneth
thee with loving-kindness and tender mercies" (Ps. ciii.).

Alas! wretched man that I am, how shall I understand all the
benefits and mercies which the Lord bestowed upon me the very next
day? I now wept for joy as of late I had done for sorrow; and my
child danced about the room like a young roe, and would not go to
bed, but only cry and dance, and between whiles repeat the 103rd
Psalm, then dance and cry again until morning broke. But as she
was still very weak, I rebuked her presumption, seeing that this
was tempting the Lord; and now mark what had happened.

After we had both woke in the morning with deep sighs, and called
upon the Lord to manifest to us, in our hearts, what we should do,
we still could not make up our minds. I therefore called to my
child, if she felt strong enough, to leave her bed and light a
fire in the stove herself, as our maid was gone; that we would
then consider the matter further. She accordingly got up, but came
back in an instant with cries of joy, because the maid had
privately stolen back into the house, and had already made a fire.
Hereupon I sent for her to my bedside, and wondered at her
disobedience, and asked what she now wanted here, but to torment
me and my daughter still more, and why she did not go yesterday
with old Paasch? But she lamented and wept so sore that she scarce
could speak, and I understood only thus much: that she had eaten
with us, and would likewise starve with us, for that she could
never part from her young mistress, whom she had known from her
cradle. Such faithful love moved me so, that I said almost with
tears, "But hast thou not heard that my daughter and I have
determined to wander as beggars about the country; where, then,
wilt thou remain?" To this she answered that neither would she
stay behind, seeing it was more fitting for her to beg than for
us; but that she could not yet see why I wished to go out into the
wide world; whether I had already forgotten that I had said, in my
induction sermon, that I would abide with my flock in affliction
and in death? That I should stay yet a little longer where I was,
and send her to Liepe, as she hoped to get something worth having
for us there, from her friends and others. These words, especially
those about my induction sermon, fell heavy on my conscience, and
I was ashamed of my want of faith, since, not my daughter only,
but yet more, even my maid, had stronger faith than I, who,
nevertheless, professed to be a servant of God's Word. I believed
that the Lord, to keep me, poor fearful hireling, and at the same
time to humble me, had awakened the spirit of this poor
maid-servant to prove me, as the maid in the palace of the
high-priest had also proved the fearful St. Peter. Wherefore I
turned my face towards the wall, like Hezekiah, and humbled myself
before the Lord; which scarce had I done before my child ran into
the room again with a cry of joy. For behold some Christian heart
had stolen quietly into the house in the night, and had laid in
the chamber two loaves, a good piece of meat, a bag of oatmeal,
<i>item</i>, a bag of salt, holding near a pint. Any one may guess
what shouts of joy we all raised. Neither was I ashamed to confess
my sins before my maid; and in our common morning prayer, which we
said on our knees, I made fresh vows to the Lord of obedience and
faith. Thus we had that morning a grand breakfast, and sent
something to old Paasch besides; <i>item</i>, my daughter again
sent for all the little children to come, and kindly fed them with
our store, before they said their tasks; and when in my heart of
little faith I sighed thereat, although I said naught, she smiled,
and said, "Take therefore no thought for the morrow, for the
morrow shall take thought for the things of itself." [Footnote:
Matt. vi. 34.]

The Holy Ghost spoke by her, as I cannot but believe, nor thou
either, beloved reader: for, mark what happened. In the afternoon,
she (I mean my child) went up the Streckelberg to seek for
blackberries, as old Paasch had told her through the maid that a
few bushes were still left. The maid was chopping wood in the
yard, to which end she had borrowed old Paasch his axe, for the
Imperialist thieves had thrown away mine, so that it could nowhere
be found; and I myself was pacing up and down in the room,
meditating my sermon; when my child, with her apron full, came
quickly in at the door, quite red and with beaming eyes, and
scarce able for joy to say more than "Father, father, what have I
got?" "Well," quoth I, "what hast thou got, my child?" Whereupon
she opened her apron, and I scarce trusted my eyes when I saw,
instead of the blackberries which she had gone to seek, two
shining pieces of amber, each nearly as big as a man's head, not
to mention the small pieces, some of which were as large as my
hand, and that, God knows, is no small one. "Child of my heart,"
cried I, "how cam'st thou by this blessing from God?" As soon as
she could fetch her breath, she told me as follows:

That while she was seeking for blackberries in a dell near the
shore, she saw somewhat glistening in the sun, and on coming near,
she found this wondrous godsend, seeing that the wind had blown
the sand away from off a black vein of amber. [Footnote: This
happens frequently even now, and has occurred to the editor
himself. The small dark vein held indeed a few pieces of amber,
mixed with charcoal, a sure proof of its vegetable origin, of
which we may observe in passing there is now scarce any doubt,
since whole trees of amber have been found in Prussia, and are
preserved in the museum at Konigsberg.] That she straightway had
broken off these pieces with a stick, and that there was plenty
more to be got, seeing that it rattled about under the stick when
she thrust it into the sand, neither could she force it farther
than, at most, a foot deep into the ground; <i>item</i>, she told
me that she had covered the place all over again with sand, and
swept it smooth with her apron so as to leave no traces.

Moreover, that no stranger was at all likely to go thither, seeing
that no blackberries grew very near, and she had gone to the spot,
moved by curiosity and a wish to look upon the sea, rather than
from any need; but that she could easily find the place again
herself, inasmuch as she had marked it with three little stones.
What was our first act after the all-merciful God had rescued us
out of such misery, nay, even as it seemed, endowed us with great
riches, any one may guess. When we at length got up off our knees
my child would straightway have run to tell the maid our joyful
news. But I forbade her, seeing that we could not be sure that the
maid might not tell it again to her friends, albeit in all other
things she was a faithful woman, and feared God; but that if she
did that, the sheriff would be sure to hear of it, and to seize
upon our treasure for his princely Highness the Duke, that is to
say, for himself; and that naught would be left to us but the
sight thereof, and our want would begin all over again; that we
therefore would say, when folks asked about the luck that had
befallen us, that my deceased brother, who was a councillor at
Rotterdam, had left us a good lump of money; and indeed it was
true that I had inherited near 200 florins from him a year ago,
which, however, the soldiery (as mentioned above) cruelly robbed
me of; <i>item</i>, that I would go to Wolgast myself next day,
and sell the little bits as best I might, saying that thou hadst
picked them up by the seaside; thou mayst tell the maid the same
if thou wilt, but show the larger pieces to no one, and I will
send them to thy uncle at Hamburg, to be turned into money for us;
perchance I may be able to sell one of them at Wolgast, if I find
occasion, so as to buy clothes enough for the winter, for thee and
for me, wherefore thou too mayst go with me. We will take the few
farthings which the congregation have brought together to pay the
ferry, and thou canst order the maid to wait for us till eventide
at the water-side to carry home the victuals. She agreed to all
this, but said we had better first break off some more amber, so
that we might get a good round sum for it at Hamburg; and I
thought so too, wherefore we stopped at home next day, seeing that
we did not want for food, and that my child, as well as myself,
both wished to refresh ourselves a little before we set out on our
journey; <i>item</i>, we likewise bethought us that old Master
Rothoog, of Loddin, who is a cabinet-maker, might knock together a
little box for us, to put the amber in, wherefore I sent the maid
to him in the afternoon. Meanwhile we ourselves went up the
Streckelberg, where I cut a young fir-tree with my pocket knife,
which I had saved from the enemy, and shaped it like a spade, so
that I might be better able to dig deep therewith. First, however,
we looked about us well on the mountain, and seeing nobody, my
daughter walked on to the place, which she straightway found
again. Great God! what a mass of amber, was there! The vein was
hard upon twenty feet long, as near as I could feel, and the depth
of it I could not sound. Nevertheless, save four good-sized
pieces, none, however, so big as those of yesterday, we this day
only broke out little splinters, such as the apothecaries bruise
for incense. After we had most carefully covered and smoothed over
the place, a great mishap was very near befalling us; for we met
Witthan her little girl, who was seeking blackberries, and she
asked what my daughter carried in her apron, who straightway grew
red, and stammered so that our secret would have been betrayed if
I had not presently said, "What is that to thee? she has got
fir-apples, for firing," which the child believed. Wherefore we
resolved in future only to go up the mountain at night by
moonlight, and we went home and got there before the maid, and hid
our treasure in the bedstead, so that she should not see it.




CHAPTER X.

<i>How we journeyed to Wolgast, and made good barter there.</i>


Two days after, so says my daughter, but old Ilse thinks it was
three (and I myself know not which is true), we at last went to
the town, seeing that Master Rothoog had not got the box ready
before. My daughter covered it over with a piece of my departed
wife her wedding gown, which the Imperialists had indeed torn to
pieces, but as they had left it lying outside, the wind had blown
it into the orchard, where we found it. It was very shabby before,
otherwise I doubt not they would have carried it off with them. On
account of the box we took old Ilse with us, who had to carry it,
and as amber is very light ware, she readily believed that the box
held nothing but eatables. At daybreak, then, we took our staves
in our hands, and set out with God. Near Zitze, [Footnote: A
village half way between Coserow and Wolgast, now called
Zinnowitz.] a hare ran across the road before us, which they say
bodes no good. Well-a-day!--When we came near Bannemin I asked a
fellow if it was true that here a mother had slaughtered her own
child, from hunger, as I had heard. He said it was, and that the
old woman's name was Zisse; but that God had been wroth at such a
horrid deed, and she had got no good by it, seeing that she
vomited so much upon eating it that she forthwith gave up the
ghost. On the whole, he thought things were already going rather
better with the parish, as Almighty God had richly blessed them
with fish, both out of the sea and the Achterwater. Nevertheless a
great number of people had died of hunger here also. He told us
that their vicar, his reverence Johannes Lampius, [Footnote: The
present parish archives contain several short and incomplete
notices of his sufferings during these dreadful wars.] had had his
house burnt down by the Imperialists, and was lying in a hovel
near the church. I sent him my greeting, desiring that he would
soon come to visit me (which the fellow promised he would take
care to deliver to him), for the reverend Johannes is a pious and
learned man, and has also composed sundry Latin
<i>Chronosticha</i> on these wretched times, in <i>metrum
heroicum</i>, which, I must say, pleased me greatly. [Footnote:
The old vicar has introduced them among the still existing
parochial accounts, and we will here give a specimen of them:--

  For 1620.
  VsqVe qVo Do MIne IrasCerls, sIs nobIs pater!

  For 1628.
  InqVe tVa DeXtra fer operaM tV ChrIste benIgne!]

When we had crossed the ferry we went in at Sehms his house, on
the castle green, who keeps an ale-house; he told us that the
pestilence had not yet altogether ceased in the town; whereat I
was much afraid, more especially as he described to us so many
other horrors and miseries of these fearful times, both here and
in other places, <i>e.g.</i>, of the great famine in the island of
Ruegen, where a number of people had grown as black as Moors from
hunger; a wondrous thing if it be true, and one might almost
gather therefrom how the first blackamoors came about. [Footnote:
Micraelius also, in his "Ancient Pomerania" (vol. Ixxi. 2),
mentions this circumstance, but only says:--"Those who came over
to Stralsund were quite black from the hunger they had suffered."
This accounts for the strange exaggeration of mine host, and the
still stranger conclusion of our author.] But be that as it may.
<i>Summa</i>. When Master Sehms had told us all the news he had
heard, and we had thus learnt to our great comfort that the Lord
had not visited us only in these times of heavy need, I called him
aside into a chamber and asked him whether I could not here find
means to get money for a piece of amber, which my daughter had
found by the sea. At first he said "No;" but then recollecting, he
began, "Stay, let me see, at Nicolas Graeke's, the inn at the
castle, there are two great Dutch merchants, Dieterich von Pehnen
and Jacob Kiekebusch, who are come to buy pitch and boards,
<i>item</i>, timber for ships and beams; perchance they may like
to cheapen your amber too; but you had better go up to the castle
yourself, for I do not know for certain whether they still are
there." This I did, although I had not yet eaten anything in the
man's house, seeing that I wanted to know first what sort of
bargain I might make, and to save the farthings belonging to the
church until then. So I went into the castle yard. Gracious God!
what a desert had even his princely Highness' house become within
a short time! The Danes had ruined the stables and hunting-lodge,
anno 1628; <i>item</i>, destroyed several rooms in the castle; and
in the <i>locamentum</i> of his princely Highness Duke Philippus,
where, anno 22, he so graciously entertained me and my child, as
will be told further on, now dwelt the innkeeper Nicolas Graeke;
and all the fair tapestries, whereon was represented the
pilgrimage to Jerusalem of his princely Highness Bogislaus X.,
were torn down, and the walls left grey and bare. [Footnote:
Compare Heller's "Chronicle of the Town of Wolgast," p. 42, &c.
The riots were caused by the successor of Philippus Julius (d. 6th
Feb. 1625), who was also the last Duke of Pomerania, Bogislaus
XIV., choosing to reside in Stettin. At the present time the
castle is a mere ruin, and only several large vaulted cellars
remain, wherein some of the tradesmen of the present day keep
their shops.] At this sight my heart was sorely grieved; but I
presently inquired for the merchants, who sat at the table
drinking their parting cup, with their travelling equipments
already lying by them, seeing that they were just going to set out
on their way to Stettin; straightway one of them jumped up from
his liquor, a little fellow with a right noble paunch, and a black
plaster on his nose, and asked me what I would of them? I took him
aside into a window, and told him I had some fine amber, if he had
a mind to buy it of me, which he straightway agreed to do. And
when he had whispered somewhat into the ear of his fellow, he
began to look very pleasant, and reached me the pitcher before we
went to my inn. I drank to him right heartily, seeing that, as I
have already said, I was still fasting, so that I felt my very
heart warmed by it in an instant. (Gracious God! what can go
beyond a good draught of wine taken within measure!) After this we
went to my inn, and told the maid to carry the box on one side
into a small chamber. I had scarce opened it and taken away the
gown, when the man (whose name was Dieterich von Pehnen, as he had
told me by the way), held up both hands for joy, and said he had
never seen such wealth of amber, and how had I come by it? I
answered that my child had found it on the sea-shore; whereat he
wondered greatly that we had so much amber here, and offered me
300 florins for the whole box. I was quite beside myself for joy
at such an offer, but took care not to let him see it, and
bargained with him till I got 500 florins, and I was to go with
him to the castle, and take the money forthwith. Hereupon I
ordered mine host to make ready at once a mug of beer, and a good
dinner for my child, and went back to the castle with the man, and
the maid who carried the box, begging him, in order to avoid
common talk, to say nothing of my good fortune to mine host, nor
indeed to any one else in the town, and to count out the money to
me privately, seeing that I could not be sure that the thieves
might not lay in wait for me on the road home if they heard of it.
And this the man did; for he whispered something into the ear of
his fellow, who straightway opened his leathern surcoat,
<i>item</i>, his doublet and hose, and unbuckled from his paunch a
well-filled purse which he gave to him. <i>Summa</i>.--Before long
I had my riches in my pocket, and, moreover, the man begged me to
write to him at Amsterdam whenever I found any more amber, the
which I promised to do. But the worthy fellow, as I have since
heard, died of the plague at Stettin, together with his
companion--truly I wish it had happened otherwise. [Footnote:
Micraelius mentions these Dutch merchants, p. 171, but asserts that
the cause of their death was doubtful, and that the town
physician, Dr. Laurentius Eichstadius, in Stettin, had written a
special medical paper on the subject. However, he calls one of
them Kiekepost, instead of Kiekebusch.] Shortly after, I was very
near getting into great trouble; for, as I had an extreme longing
to fall on my knees, so that I could not wait until such time as I
should have got back to my inn, I went up three or four steps of
the castle stairs, and entered into a small chamber, where I
humbled myself before the Lord. But the host, Nicolas Graeke,
followed me, thinking I was a thief, and would have stopped me, so
that I knew not how to excuse myself but by saying that I had been
made drunken by the wine which the strange merchants had given to
me (for he had seen what a good pull I had made at it), seeing I
had not broken my fast that morning, and that I was looking for a
chamber wherein I might sleep a while, which lie he believed (if
in truth it were a lie, for I was really drunken, though not with
wine, but with love and gratitude to my Maker), and accordingly he
let me go.

But I must now tell my story of his princely Highness, as I
promised above. Anno 22, as I chanced to walk with my daughter,
who was then a child of about twelve years old, in the castle
garden at Wolgast, and was showing her the beautiful flowers that
grew there, it chanced that as we came round from behind some
bushes we espied my gracious lord the Duke Philippus Julius, with
his princely Highness the Duke Bogislaff, who lay here on a visit,
standing on a mount and conversing, wherefore we were about to
return. But as my gracious lords presently walked on towards the
drawbridge, we went to look at the mount where they had stood; of
a sudden my little girl shouted loudly for joy, seeing that she
found on the earth a costly signet-ring, which one of their
princely Highnesses doubtless had dropped. I therefore said,
"Come, and we will follow our gracious lords with all speed, and
thou shalt say to them in Latin: <i>Serenissimi principes, quis
vestrum hunc annulum deperdidit</i>? (for, as I have mentioned
above, I had instructed her in the Latin tongue ever since her
seventh year), and if one of them says <i>Ego</i>, give to him the
ring. <i>Item</i>, should he ask thee in Latin to whom thou
belongest, be not abashed, and say: <i>Ego sum filia pastoris
Coserowiensis</i>; for thou wilt thus find favour in the eyes of
their princely Highnesses, for they are both gracious gentlemen,
more especially the taller one, who is our gracious ruler
Philippus Julius himself." This she promised to do; but as she
trembled sorely as she went, I encouraged her yet more and
promised her a new gown if she did it, seeing that even as a
little child she would have given a great deal for fine clothes.
As soon, then, as we were come into the courtyard, I stood by the
statue of his princely Highness Ernest Ludewig, [Footnote: The
father of Philippus Julius, died at Wolgast 17th June 1592.] and
whispered her to run boldly after them, as their princely
Highnesses were only a few steps before us, and had already turned
toward the great entrance. This she did, but of a sudden she stood
still, and would have turned back, because she was frightened by
the spurs of their princely Highnesses, as she afterwards told me,
seeing that they rattled and jingled very loudly.

But my gracious lady the Duchess Agnes saw her from the open
window wherein she lay, and called to his princely Highness, "My
lord, there is a little maiden behind you, who, it seems, would
speak with you," whereupon his princely Highness straightway
turned him round, smiling pleasantly, so that my little maid
presently took courage, and, holding up the ring, spoke in Latin
as I had told her. Hereat both the princes wondered beyond
measure, and after my gracious Duke Philippus had felt his finger,
he answered, "<i>Dulcissima puella, ego perdidi</i>;" whereupon
she gave it to him. Then he patted her cheek, and again asked,
"<i>Sed quoenam es, et unde venis</i>?" whereupon she boldly gave
her answer, and at the same time pointed with her finger to where
I stood by the statue; whereupon his princely Highness motioned me
to draw near. My gracious lady saw all that passed from the
window, but all at once she left it. She, however, came back to it
again before I had time even humbly to draw near to my gracious
lord, and beckoned to my child, and held a cake out of the window
for her. On my telling her she ran up to the window, but her
princely Highness could not reach so low nor she so high above her
as to take it, wherefore my gracious lady commanded her to come up
into the castle, and as she looked anxiously round after me,
motioned me also, as did my gracious lord himself, who presently
took the timid little maid by the hand and went up with his
princely Highness the Duke Bogislaff. My gracious lady came to
meet us at the door, and caressed and embraced my little daughter,
so that she soon grew quite bold and ate the cake. When my
gracious lord had asked me my name, <i>item</i>, why I had in so
singular a manner taught my daughter the Latin tongue, I answered
that I had heard much from a cousin at Cologne of Maria Schurman,
[Footnote: Anna Maria Schurman, born at Cologne on the 5th Nov.
1607, died at Wiewardin the 5th May 1678, was, according to the
unanimous testimony of her contemporaries, a prodigy of learning,
and perhaps the most learned woman that ever lived. The Frenchman
Naude says of her, "You find in her alone all that the hand can
fashion or the mind conceive. No one paints better, no one works
better in brass, wax, and wood. In needlework she excels all women
past or present. It is impossible to say in what branch of
knowledge she is most distinguished. Not content with the European
languages, she understands Hebrew, Arabic