sad and miserable captive woman, forsaken by all; without help,
exposed to power and violence, fearing every moment that her husband
might fall into their hands, and that they might vent their malice on
him. God performed on that day a great miracle, by manifesting His
power in my weakness, preserving my brain from bewilderment, and my
tongue from overflowing with impatience. Praised be God a thousand
times! I will sing Thy praise, so long as my tongue can move, for
Thou wast at this time and at all times my defence, my rock, and my
shield!
When the gentlemen were gone away, the prison governor came and the
women, and a stool was spread by the side of my bed. The prison
governor said to me, 'Eat, Leonora; will you not eat?' As he said
this, he threw a knife to me on the bed. I took up the knife with
angry mind, and threw it on the ground. He picked up the knife,
saying, 'You are probably not hungry? No, no! you have had a
breakfast to-day which has satisfied you, have you not? Is it not
so?' Well, well, come dear little women (addressing the two women),
let us eat something! You must be hungry, judging from my own
stomach.' When they had sat down to table, he began immediately to
cram himself, letting it fall as if inadvertently from his mouth, and
making so many jokes that it was sad to see how the old man could not
conceal his joy at my unhappiness.
When the meal was finished, and the prison governor had gone away,
Anna sat down by my bed and began to speak of the sorrow and
affliction which we endure in this world, and of the joy and delights
of heaven; how the pain that we suffer here is but small compared
with eternal blessedness and joy, wherefore we should not regard
suffering, but should rather think of dying with a good conscience,
keeping it unsullied by confessing everything that troubles us, for
there is no other way. 'God grant,' she added, 'that no one may
torment himself for another's sake.' After having repeated this
remark several times, she said to me, 'Is it not true, my lady?'
'Yes, certainly it is true,' I replied; 'you speak in a Christian
manner, and according to the scriptures.' 'Why will you, then,' she
went on to say, 'let yourself be tormented for others, and not say
what you know of them?' I asked whom she meant. She answered, 'I do
not know them.' I replied, 'Nor do I.' She continued in the same
strain, however, saying that she would not suffer and be tormented
for the sake of others, whoever they might be; if they were guilty
they must suffer; she would not suffer for them; a woman was easily
led away, but happiness was more than all kindred and friends.
As she seemed unable to cease chattering, I wished to divert her a
little, so I asked whether she were a clergyman's daughter; and since
she had before told me of her parentage, she resented this question
all the more, and was thoroughly angry; saying, 'If I am not a
clergyman's daughter, I am the daughter of a good honest citizen, and
not one of the least. In my time, when I was still unmarried, I never
thought that I should marry a shoemaker.' I said, 'But your first
husband, too, was also a shoemaker.' 'That is true,' she replied,
'but this marriage came about in a very foolish manner,' and she
began to narrate a whole history of the matter, so that I was left in
peace. Catharina paced up and down, and when Anna was silent for a
little, she said, with folded hands, 'O God, Thou who art almighty,
and canst do everything, preserve this man for whom they are seeking,
and never let him fall into the hands of his enemies. Oh God, hear
me!' Anna said angrily to her, 'Catharina, do you know what you are
saying? How can you speak so?' Catharina answered, 'Yes, I know well
what I am saying. God preserve him, and let him never fall into the
hands of his enemies. Jesus, be Thou his guide!' She uttered these
words with abundant tears. Anna said, 'I think that woman is not in
her senses.' Catharina's kind wish increased my tears, and I said,
'Catharina shows that she is a true Christian, and sympathises with
me; God reward her, and hear her and me!' Upon this Anna was silent,
and has not been so talkative ever since. O God, Thou who art a
recompenser of all that is good, remember this in favour of
Catharina, and as Thou heardest her at that time, hear her prayer in
future, whatever may be her request! And you, my dear children, know
that if ever fortune so ordains it that you can be of any service
either to her or her only son, you are bound to render it for my
sake; for she was a comfort to me in my greatest need, and often took
an opportunity to say a word which she thought would alleviate my
sorrow.
The prison governor came as usual, about four o'clock, and let the
women out, seating himself on the bench and placing the high stool
with the candle in front of him. He had brought a book with him, and
read aloud prayers for a happy end, prayers for the hour of death,
and prayers for one suffering temporal punishment for his misdeeds.
He did not forget a prayer for one who is to be burnt; in reading
this he sighed, so religious had he grown in the short time. When he
had read all the prayers, he got up and walked up and down, singing
funeral hymns; when he knew no more, he began again with the first,
till the women released him. Catharina complained that her son had
been ill, and was greatly grieved about it. I entered into her
sorrow, and said that she ought to mention her son's illness to the
Queen, and then another would probably be appointed in her place; and
I begged her to compose herself, as the child would probably be
better again. During the evening meal the prison governor was very
merry, and related all sorts of coarse stories. When he was gone,
Anna read the evening prayer. I felt very ill during this night, and
often turned about in bed; there was a needle in the bed, with which
I scratched myself; I got it out, and still have it.[67]
[67] In the margin: 'The feather-bed had an old cover, and was
fresh filled when I was lying in the roads; the needle, in the
hurry, had therefore been left in.'
On August 14, when the prison governor opened the door early, the
women told him that I had been very ill in the night. 'Well, well,'
he answered, 'it will soon be better.' And when the women were ready
to go to the Queen (which they were always obliged to do), Anna said
to Catharina, outside the door, 'What shall we say to the Queen?'
Catharina answered: 'What shall we say, but that she is silent and
will say nothing!' 'You know very well that the Queen is displeased
at it.' 'Nevertheless, we cannot tell a lie;' answered Catharina;
'she says nothing at all, so it would be a sin.'[68] Catharina came
back to the mid-day meal, and said that the Queen had promised to
appoint another in her stead; in the afternoon, she managed secretly
to say a word to me about the next chamber, which she imagined was
being put in readiness for me and for no one else; she bid me good
night, and promised to remember me constantly in her prayers. I
thanked her for her good services, and for her kind feeling towards
me.
[68] In the margin: 'I myself heard this conversation.'
About four o'clock the prison governor let her and Anna out. He sang
one hymn after another, went to the stairs, and the time appeared
long to him, till six o'clock, when Anna returned with Maren Blocks.
At the evening meal the prison governor again told stories of his
marriage, undoubtedly for the sake of amusing Maren. Anna left me
alone, and I lay quiet in silence. Maren could not find an
opportunity of speaking with me the whole evening, on account of
Anna. Nothing particular happened on August 15 and 16.
When the prison governor let out Anna in the morning and afternoon,
Maren Blocks remained with me, and the prison governor went his own
way and locked the door, so that Maren had opportunity of talking
with me alone. She told me different things; among others, that the
Queen had given my clothes to the three women who had undressed me,
that they might distribute them amongst themselves. She asked me
whether I wished to send a message to my sister Elizabeth. I thanked
her, but said that I had nothing good to tell her. I asked Maren for
needles and thread, in order to test her. She replied she would
gladly procure them for me if she dared, but that it would risk her
whole well-being if the Queen should know it; for she had so strictly
forbidden that anyone should give me either pins or needles. I
inquired 'For what reason?' 'For this reason,' she replied, 'that you
may not kill yourself.' I assured her that God had enlightened me
better than that I should be my own murderer. I felt that my cross
came from the hand of the Lord, that He was chastising me as His
child; He would also help me to bear it; I trusted in Him to do so.
'Then I hope, dear heart,' said Maren, 'that you will not kill
yourself; then you shall have needles and thread; but what will you
sew?' I alleged that I wished to sew some buttons on my white
night-dress, and I tore off a pair, in order to show her afterwards
that I had sewn them on.
Now it happened that I had sewn up some ducats in a piece of linen
round my knee; these I had kept, as I pulled off the stockings myself
when they undressed me, and Anna had at my desire given me a rag, as
I pretended that I had hurt my leg. I sewed this rag over the
leather. They all imagined that I had some secret malady, for I lay
in the linen petticoat they had given me, and went to bed in my
stockings. Maren imagined that I had an issue on one leg, and she
confided to me that a girl at the court, whom she mentioned by name,
and who was her very good friend, had an issue of which no one knew
but herself, not even the woman who made her bed. I thought to
myself, you keep your friend's secret well; I did not, however, make
her any wiser, but let her believe in this case whatever she would. I
was very weak on those two days, and as I took nothing more than
lemon and beer, my stomach became thoroughly debilitated and refused
to retain food. When Maren told the prison governor of this, he
answered, 'All right, her heart is thus getting rid of its evil.'
Anna was no longer so officious, but the prison governor was as merry
as ever.
On August 17 the prison governor did not open the door before eight
o'clock, and Anna asked him how it was that he had slept so long. He
joked a little; presently he drew her to the door and whispered with
her. He went out and in, and Anna said so loudly to Maren, that I
could hear it (although she spoke as if she were whispering), 'I am
so frightened that my whole body trembles, although it does not
concern me. Jesus keep me! I wish I were down below!' Maren looked
sad, but she neither answered nor spoke a word. Maren came softly up
to my bed and said, 'I am sure some one is coming to you.' I
answered, 'Let him come, in God's name.' Presently I heard a running
up and down stairs, and also overhead, for the Commissioners came
always through the apartments, in order not to cross the square. My
doors were closed again. Each time that some one ran by on the
stairs, Anna shuddered and said, 'I quite tremble.'
This traffic lasted till about eleven. When the prison governor
opened the door, he said to me, 'Leonora, you are to get up and go to
the gentlemen.' God knows that I could hardly walk, and Anna
frightened me by saying to Maren, 'Oh! the poor creature!' Maren's
hands trembled when she put on my slippers. I could not imagine
anything else than that I was to be tortured, and I consoled myself
with thinking that my pain could not last long, for my body was so
weary that it seemed as if God might at any moment take me away. When
Maren fastened the apron over my long dress, I said: 'They are indeed
sinning heavily against me; may God give me strength.' The prison
governor hurried me, and when I was ready, he took me by the arm and
led me. I would gladly have been free of his help, but I could not
walk alone. He conducted me up to the next story, and there sat Count
Rantzow, Skack, Retz, Gabel, and Krag, round the table.
They all rose when I entered, and I made them a reverence as well as
I was able. A small low seat had been placed for me in the middle, in
front of the table. The Chancellor asked me whether I had not had
more letters than those taken from me in England. I answered that I
had not had more; that all my letters had been then taken from me.
He asked further, whether I had at that time destroyed any letters.
'Yes,' I answered, 'one I tore in two, and threw it in a closet.'
'Why did you do so?' enquired Count Rantzow. 'Because' I replied,
'there were cyphers in it; and although they were of no importance, I
feared, notwithstanding, that they might excite suspicion.' Count
Rantzow said: 'Supposing the pieces were still forthcoming?' 'That
were to be wished,' I replied, 'for then it could be seen that there
was nothing suspicious in it, and it vexed me afterwards that I had
torn it in two.' Upon this the Chancellor drew forth a sheet of paper
upon which, here and there, pieces of this very letter were pasted,
and handed it to Krag, who gave it to me. Count Rantzow asked me if
it were not my husband's handwriting. I answered that it was. He
said: 'A part of the pieces which you tore in two have been found,
and a part are lost. All that has been found has been collected and
copied.' He then asked the Chancellor for the copy, who gave it to
Count Rantzow, and he handed it to me, saying, 'See there what is
wanting, and tell us what it is that is missing.' I took it, and
looked over it and said: 'In some places, where there are not too
many words missing, I think I can guess what is lost, but where a
whole sentence is wanting, I cannot know.'
Most of the letter had been collected without loss of intervening
pieces, and it all consisted of mirth and jest. He was telling me
that he had heard from Denmark that the Electoral Prince of Saxony
was to be betrothed with the Princess of Denmark;[E20] and he joked,
saying that they would grease their throats and puff out their cheeks
in order that with good grace and voice they might duly trumpet
forth each their own titles, and more of the same kind, all in high
colouring. He described the way in which Count Rantzow contrived to
let people know his titles; when he had a dinner-party, there was a
man employed to read aloud his titles to the guests, asking first
each separately, whether he knew his titles; if there was anyone who
did not know them, the secretary must forthwith come and read them
aloud.
[E20] Leonora refers to the betrothal of Prince Johan George of
Saxony and Anna Sophia, the eldest daughter of Fredrik III., of
which an account occurs in the sequel.
It seemed that Count Rantzow referred all this to himself, for he
asked me what my husband meant by it. I replied that I did not know
that he meant anything but what he had written; he meant undoubtedly
those who did such things. The Chancellor averted his face from Count
Rantzow, and his lips smiled a little; Gabel also did the same. Among
other things there were some remarks about the Electoral Prince, that
he probably cherished the hope of inheriting the Crown of Denmark;
'mais j'espere ... cela ne se fera point.' Count Rantzow enquired as
to the words which were wanting. I said, if I remembered rightly, the
words had been, 'qu'en 300 ans.' He enquired further as to the
expressions lacking here and there, some of which I could not
remember exactly, though they were of no importance. I expressed my
opinion that they could easily gather what was wanting from the
preceding and following words; it was sufficiently evident that all
was jest, and this was apparent also to Gabel, who said, 'Ce n'est
que raillerie.' But Count Rantzow and the General would not allow it
to pass as jest.
Skack said: 'One often means something else under the cloak of jest,
and names are used when others are intended.' For in the letter there
was something said about drinking out; there was also an allusion
made to the manners of the Swiss at table, and all the titles of the
canton nobles were enumerated, from which Skack thought that the
names of the cities might have another signification. I did not
answer Skack; but as Count Rantzow continued to urge me to say what
my husband had meant by it, I replied that I could not know whether
he had had another meaning than that which was written. Skack shook
his head and thought he had, so I said: 'I know no country where the
same customs are in vogue at meals as in Switzerland; if there are
other places where the same customs prevail, he may perhaps have
meant these also, for he is only speaking of drinking.'
Gabel said again, 'It is only jest.' The cyphers, for the sake of
which I had torn the letter in two, were fortunately complete, and
nothing was missing. Count Rantzow gave me a sheet of paper, to which
pieces of my lord's letter were pasted, and asked me what the cyphers
meant. I replied, 'I have not the key, and cannot solve them out of
my head.' He expressed his opinion that I could do it. I said I could
not. 'Well, they have been read,' he said, 'and we know what they
signify.' 'All the better,' I answered. Upon this, he gave me the
interpretation to read, and the purport of it was that our son had
written from Rome, asking for money, which was growing short, for the
young nobleman was not at home. I gave the paper back to Count
Rantzow without saying anything. Count Rantzow requested the
Treasurer that he should read the letter, and Rantzow began again
with his questions wherever anything was wanting, requesting that I
should say what it was. I gave him the same answer as before; but
when in one passage, where some words were missing, he pressed me
hard to say them, and it was evident from the context that they were
ironical (since an ironical word was left written), I said: 'You can
add as much of the same kind as pleases you, if one is not enough; I
do not know them.' Gabel again said, 'Ce n'est que raillerie.'[E21]
[E21] A copy of the fragments which had been recovered of this
letter is still in existence.
No further questions were then made respecting the letters; but Count
Rantzow enquired as to my jewels, and asked where the large diamond
was which my husband had received in France.[E22] I replied that it
had long been sold. He further asked where my large drop pearls
where, which I had worn as a feather on my hat, and where my large
pearl head-ornament was. 'All these,' I replied, 'have long been
sold.' He asked further whether I had then no more jewels. I
answered, 'I have none now.' 'I mean,' he said, 'elsewhere.' I
replied, 'I left some behind.' 'Where, then?' he asked. 'At Bruges,'
I replied. Then he said: 'I have now somewhat to ask you, madame,
that concerns myself. Did you visit my sister in Paris the last time
you were there?' I replied, 'Yes.' He asked whether I had been with
her in the convent, and what was the name of the convent. I informed
him that I had been in the convent, and that it was the Convent des
Filles Bleues. At this he nodded, as if to confirm it. He also wished
to know whether I had seen her. I said that no one in the convent
might be seen by anyone but parents; even brothers and sisters were
not allowed to see them.[E23] 'That is true,' he said, and then rose
and gave me his hand. I begged him to induce his gracious Majesty to
have pity on me, but he made no answer. When the Treasurer Gabel
gave me his hand, I begged the same favour of him. He replied, 'Yes,
if you will confess,' and went out without waiting for a reply.
[E22] Ulfeldt received this present probably in 1647, when in
France as ambassador, on which occasion Queen Anna is known to have
presented to Leonora a gold watch set with diamonds of great value.
[E23] The lady alluded to is Helvig Margaretha Elizabeth Rantzow,
widow of the famous General Josias Rantzow, who died as a marechal
of France. She had become a Romanist, and took the veil after her
husband's death. Subsequently she founded the new order of the
Annunciata. In 1666 the first convent of this order, of which she
was abbess, removed to Hildesheim, where she died in 1706.
For more than three hours they had kept up the interrogation. Then
the prison governor came in and said to me: 'Now you are to remain in
here; it is a beautiful chamber, and has been freshly whitewashed;
you may now be contented.' Anna and Maren also came in. God knows, I
was full of care, tired and weary, and had insufferable headache;
yet, before I could go to rest, I had to sit waiting until the
bedstead had been taken out of the 'Dark Church' and brought hither.
Anna occupied herself meanwhile in the Dark Church, in scraping out
every hole; she imagined she might find something there, but in vain.
The woman who was to remain with me alone then came in. Her pay was
two rix-dollars a week; her name is Karen, the daughter of Ole. After
the prison governor had supped with the woman and Maren, Anna and
Maren Blocks bade me good night; the latter exhibited great
affection. The prison governor bolted two doors before my innermost
prison. In the innermost door there is a square hole, which is
secured with iron cross-bars. The prison governor was going to attach
a lock to this hole, but he forebore at Karen's request, for she said
she could not breathe if this hole were closed. He then affixed locks
to the door of the outer chamber, and to the door leading to the
stairs; he had, therefore, four locks and doors twice a day to lock
and unlock.
I will here describe my prison. It is a chamber, seven of my paces
long and six wide; there are in it two beds, a table, and two stools.
It was freshly whitewashed, which caused a terrible smell; the floor,
moreover was so thick with dirt, that I imagined it was of loam,
though it was really laid with bricks. It is eighteen feet high, with
a vaulted ceiling, and very high up is a window which is two feet
square. In front of it are double thick iron bars, besides a
wire-work, which is so close that one could not put one's little
finger into the holes. This wire-work had been thus ordered with
great care by Count Rantzow (so the prison governor afterwards told
me), so that no pigeons might bring in a letter--a fact which he had
probably read in a novel as having happened. I was weak and deeply
grieved in my heart; I looked for a merciful deliverance, and an end
to my sorrow, and I sat silent and uncomplaining, answering little
when the woman spoke to me. Sometimes in my reverie I scratched at
the wall, which made the woman imagine that I was confused in my
head; she told this to the prison governor, who reported it to the
Queen, and during every meal-time, when the door was open, she never
failed to send messengers to enquire how it fared with me, what I
said, and what I was doing.
The woman had, however, not much to tell in obedience to the oath
she, according to her own statement, had taken in the presence of the
prison governor. But afterwards she found some means to ingratiate
herself. And as my strength daily decreased, I rejoiced at the
prospect of my end, and on August 21 I sent for the prison governor,
and requested him to apply for a clergyman who could give me the
sacrament. This was immediately granted, and His Majesty's Court
preacher, Magister Mathias Foss, received orders to perform for me
the duties of his office, and exhorted me, both on behalf of his
office and in consequence of the command he had received, not to
burden my conscience; I might rest assured, he said, that in this
world I should never see my husband again, and he begged me to say
what I knew of the treason. I could scarcely utter a word for
weeping; but I said that I could attest before God in heaven, from
whom nothing is hidden, that I knew nothing of this treason. I knew
well I should never see my husband again in this life; I commended
him to the Almighty, who knew my innocence; I prayed God only for a
blessed end and departure from this evil world; I desired nothing
from the clergyman but that he should remember me in his prayers,
that God might by death put an end to my affliction. The clergyman
promised faithfully to grant my request. It has not pleased God to
hear me in this: He has willed to prove my faith still further, by
sending to me since this time much care, affliction, and adversity.
He has helped me also to bear the cross, and has Himself supported
its heaviest end; His name be praised for ever. When I had received
the Lord's Supper, M. Foss comforted me and bid me farewell.
I lay silently for three days after this, taking little or nothing.
The prison governor often enquired whether I wished for anything to
eat or drink, or whether he should say anything to the King. I
thanked him, but said I required nothing.