with which the man threatens us cannot be averted by tears. Calm
yourself and lie down to sleep. I will do the same, and I will pray
God to impart to me His wise counsel for the morrow.' This quieted
her a little; but when I thought she was sleeping, she burst forth
again with all the things that she feared; she had brought in to me
slips of paper, knife and scissors, and other things furnished by him
contrary to order. I answered only from time to time: 'Go to sleep,
go to sleep! I will talk with you to-morrow!' It was of no avail. The
clock struck two, when she was still wanting to talk, and saying, 'It
will go badly with the poor old man down below!'[117] I made as if I
were asleep, but the whole night, till five o'clock and longer, no
sleep came to my eyes.
[117] In the margin is added: '1666. While Karen, Nil's daughter,
waited on me, a Nuremberger was my neighbour in the Dark Church; he
was accused of having coined base money. She carried food to him
every day. He sang and read day and night, and sang very well. He
sang the psalm 'Incline thine ear unto me, O Lord,' slowly at my
desire. I copied it, and afterwards translated it into Danish. And
as he often prayed aloud at night and confessed his sins, praying
God for forgiveness and exclaiming again and again, 'Thou must help
me, God! Yes, God, thou must help me, or thou art no God. Thou must
be gracious;' thus hindering me from sleep, I sent him word through
Karen to pray more softly, which he did. He was taken to the Holm
for some weeks, and was then set at liberty.
When the door was unlocked at noon, I had already intimated to her
what she was to say to Christian, and had given her to understand
that he thought to receive money from her and candles from me by his
threats, and that he wanted to force us to obey his pleasure; but
that he had others to deal with than he imagined. She was only to
behave as if she did not care for his talk, and was to say nothing
but 'Good day,' unless he spoke to her; and if he enquired what I had
said, she was to act as if she did not remember that she was to tell
me anything. If he repeated his message, she was to say: 'I am not
going to say anything to her about that. Are you still as foolish as
you were last night? Do what you choose!' and then go away. This
conversation took place, and he threatened her worse than before. The
woman remained steadfast, but she was thoroughly cast down when our
doors were locked; still, as she has a light heart, she often laughed
with the tears in her eyes. I knew well that Christian would try to
recover favour again by communicating me all kind of news in writing,
but I had forbidden the woman to take his slips of paper, so that he
got very angry. I begged her to tell him that he had better restrain
himself if he could; that if he indulged his anger, it would be worse
for him. At this he laughed ironically, and said, 'Tell her, it will
be worse for her. Whatever I have done for her, she has enticed me to
by giving me wine: tell her so. I will myself confess everything; and
if I come to the rack and wheel, Chresten shall get into trouble. He
brought her letters from her children.' (The rogue well knew that I
had not allowed the woman to be cognisant neither of the fact that he
had conveyed for me a message to Skaane to my children, nor of the
wax in which the tower keys were impressed; this was why he spoke so
freely to her.) When our doors were locked, this formed the subject
of our conversation. I laughed at it, and asked the woman what
disgrace could be so great as to be put on the wheel; I regarded it
as thoughtless talk, for such it was, and I begged her to tell him
that he need not trouble himself to give himself up, as I would
relieve him of the trouble, and (if he chose) tell the prison
governor everything on the following day that he had done for me; he
had perhaps forgotten something, but that I could well remember it
all.
When the woman told him this, he made no answer, but ran down, kept
quiet for some days, and scarcely spoke to the woman. One Saturday,
when the woman had gone upstairs with the night-stool, he went up to
her and tried to persuade her to accept a slip of paper for me, but
she protested that she dare not. 'Then tell her,' he said, 'that she
is to give me back the scissors and the knife which I have given her.
I will have them, and she shall see what I can do. You shall both
together get into trouble!' She came down as white as a corpse, so
that I thought she had strained herself. She related the conversation
and his request, and begged me much to give him back the things, and
that then he would be quiet. I said: 'What is the matter with you?
are you in your senses? Does he not say that we shall get into
trouble if he gets the scissors and knife back again? Now is not the
time to give them to him. Do you not understand that he is afraid I
shall let the things be seen? My work, he thinks, is gone, and the
papers are no longer here, so that there is nothing with which he can
be threatened except these things. You must not speak with him this
evening. If he says anything, do not answer him.' In the evening he
crept in, and said in the anteroom to her, 'Bring me the scissors and
the knife!' She made no answer. On the following morning, towards
noon, I begged her to tell him that I had nothing of his; that I had
paid for both the scissors and knife, and that more than double their
value. He was angry at the message, and gnashed with his teeth. She
went away from him, and avoided as much as possible speaking with him
alone. When he saw that the woman would not take a slip of paper from
him, he availed himself of a moment when the prison governor was not
there, and threw in a slip of paper to me on the floor. A strange
circumstance was near occurring this time: for just as he was
throwing in the paper, the prison governor's large shaggy dog passed
in, and the paper fell on the dog's back, but it fell off again in
the corner, where the dog was snuffling.
Upon the paper stood the words: 'Give me the knife and scissors back,
or I will bring upon you as much misfortune as I have before rendered
you good service, and I will pay for the knife and scissors if I have
to sell my trousers for it. Give them to me at once!' For some days
he went about like a lunatic, since I did not answer him, nor did I
send him a message through the woman; so that Chresten asked the
woman what she had done to Christian, as he went about below gnashing
his teeth and howling like a madman. She replied that those below
must best know what was the matter with him; that he must see he was
spoken with in a very friendly manner here. At noon on Good Friday,
1667,[118] he was very angry, swore and cursed himself if he did not
give himself up, repeating all that he had said before, and adding
that I had enticed him with wine and meat, and had deceived him with
candles and good words. That he cared but little what happened to
him; he would gladly die by the hand of the executioner; but that I,
and she, and Chresten, should not escape without hurt.
[118] In the MS. this date '1667' is in the _margin_, not in the
text.
The afternoon was not very cheerful to us. The woman was depressed. I
begged her to be calm, told her there was no danger in such madness,
though it was very annoying, and harder to bear than my captivity;
but that still I would be a match for the rogue. She took her book
and read, and I sat down and wrote a hymn upon Christ's sufferings,
to the tune 'As the hart panteth after the water-springs.'[119]
[119] In the margin is added: 'This very hymn was afterwards the
cause of Christian's being again well-behaved, as he subsequently
himself told me, for he heard me one day singing it, and he said
that his heart was touched, and that tears filled his eyes. I had
at that time no other writing-materials than I have before
mentioned.'
Christian had before been in the habit of bringing me coloured eggs
on Easter-Eve; at this time he was not so disposed. When the door was
locked, I said to Chresten, 'Do not forget the soft-boiled eggs
to-morrow.' When the dinner was brought up on Easter-Day, and the
eggs did not come at once (they were a side dish), Christian looked
at me, and made a long nose at me three or four times. (I was
accustomed to go up and down in front of the door of my room when it
was unlocked.) I remained standing, and looked at him, and shrugged
my shoulders a little. Soon after these grimaces, Chresten came with
a dish full of soft-boiled eggs. Christian cast down his eyes at
first, then he raised them to me, expecting, perhaps, that I should
make a long nose at him in return; but I intended nothing less. When
the woman went to the stairs, he said, 'There were no coloured eggs
there.' She repeated this to me at once, so that I begged her to say
that I ate the soft-boiled eggs and kept the coloured ones, as he
might see (and I sent him one of the last year's, on which I had
drawn some flowers; he had given it to me himself for some candles).
He accepted it, but wrote me a note in return, which was very
extraordinary. It was intended to be a highflown composition about
the egg and the hen. He tried to be witty, but it had no point. I
cannot now quite remember it, except that he wrote that I had sent
him a rotten egg; that his egg would be fresh, while mine would be
rotten.[120] He threw the slip of paper into my room. I made no
answer to it. Some days passed again, and he said nothing angry; then
he recommenced. I think he was vexed to see Chresten often receive my
wine back again in the cup. At times I presented it to the prison
governor. Moreover, he received no food, either for himself or his
boy. One day he said to the woman, 'What do you think the prison
governor would say if he knew that you give the prisoners some of his
food to eat?' (The food which came from my table was taken down to
the prison governor.) 'Tell her that!' The woman asked whether she
was to say so to me, as a message from him. 'As whose message
otherwise?' he answered. I sent him word that I could take as much as
I pleased of the food brought me: that it was not measured out and
weighed for me, and that those who had a right to it could do what
they liked with what I did not require, as it belonged to no one. On
this point he could not excite our fear. Then he came back again one
day to the old subject, that he would have the scissors and the
knife, and threatening to give himself up; and as it was almost
approaching the time when I received the Lord's Supper, I said to the
woman: 'Tell him once for all, if he cannot restrain himself I will
inform against him as soon as the priest comes, and the first Karen
shall be made to give evidence; she shall, indeed, be brought
forward, for she had no rest on his account until I entered into his
proposals. Whether voluntarily or under compulsion, she shall say the
truth, and then we shall see who gets into trouble.' He might do, I
sent word, whatever he liked, but I would be let alone; he might
spare me his notes, or I would produce them. When the woman told him
this, he thought a little, and then asked, 'Does she say so?' 'Yes,'
said the woman, 'she did. She said still further: "What does he
imagine? Does he think that I, as a prisoner who can go nowhere, will
suffer for having accepted the services of a prisoner who enjoys a
liberty which does not belong to him?"' He stood and let his head
hang down, and made no answer at all. This settled the fellow, and
from that time I have not heard one unsuitable word from him. He
spoke kindly and pleasantly with the woman on the stairs, related
what news he had heard, and was very officious; and when she once
asked him for his cup to give him some wine, he said sadly, 'I have
not deserved any wine.' The woman said he could nevertheless have
some wine, and that I desired no more service from him. So he
received wine from time to time, but nothing to eat.[121] On the day
that I received the Lord's Supper, he came to the door and knocked
softly. I went to the door. He saluted me and wished me joy in a very
nice manner, and said that he knew I had forgiven those who had done
aught against me. I answered in the affirmative, and gave no further
matter for questions; nor did he, but spoke of other trivialities,
and then went away. Afterwards he came daily to the door, and told me
what news he had heard; he also received wine and meat again. He told
me, among other things, that many were of opinion that all the
prisoners would be set at liberty at the wedding of the prince (our
present king) which was then talked of; that the bride was to arrive
within a month (it was the end of April when this conversation took
place), and that the wedding was to be at the palace.
[120] What he meant by it I know not; perhaps he meant that I
should die in misery, and that he should live in freedom. That
anticipation has been just reversed, for his godless life in his
liberty threw him subsequently into despair, so that he shot
himself. Whether God will give me freedom in this world is known to
Him alone.
[121] In the margin is added: 'He could not prevent his boy Paaske
from having a piece of meat placed for him in front of the door.'
The arrival of the bride was delayed till the beginning of June, and
then the wedding was celebrated in the palace at Nykjobing in
Falster. Many were of opinion that it took place there in order that
the bride might not intercede for me and the doctor.[122] When the
bride was to be brought to Copenhagen, I said to Christian: 'Now is
the time for you to gain your liberty. Let your girl wait and fall on
one knee before the carriage of the bride and hold out a
supplication, and then I am sure you will gain your liberty.' He
asked how the girl should come to be supplicating for him. I said,
'As your bride--' 'No (and he swore with a terrible oath), she is not
that! She imagines it, perhaps, but (he swore again) I will not have
her.' 'Then leave her in the idea,' I said, 'and let her make her
supplication as for her bridegroom.' 'Yes,' he said, in a crestfallen
tone, 'she may do that.' It was done, as I had advised, and Christian
was set at liberty on June 11, 1667. He did not bid me good-bye, and
did not even send me a message through the tower-warder or the boy.
His gratitude to the girl was that he smashed her window that very
evening, and made such a drunken noise in the street, that he was
locked up in the Town-hall cellar.[123] He came out, however, on the
following day. His lad Paaske took leave of his master. When he asked
him whether he should say anything from him to us, he answered, 'Tell
them that I send them to the devil.' Paaske, who brought this
message, said he had answered Christian, 'Half of that is intended
for me' (for Christian had already suspected that Paaske had rendered
services to the woman). We had a hearty laugh over this message; for
I said that if Paaske was to have half of it, I should get nothing.
We were not a little glad that we were quit of this godless man.
[122] In the margin is added: 'The bride had supplicated for me at
Nykjobing, but had not gained her object. This was thought to be
dangerous both for the land and people.'
[123] In the margin is added: 'It was a Sunday; this was the honour
he showed to God. He went into the wine-house instead of into God's
house. He came out about twelve o'clock.'
We lived on in repose throughout the year 1668. I wrote and was
furnished with various handiwork, so that Chresten bought nothing for
me but a couple of books, and these I paid doubly and more than
doubly with candles. Karen remained with me the first time more than
three years; and as her daughter was then going to be married, and
she wished to be at the wedding, she spoke to me as to how it could
be arranged, for she would gladly have a promise of returning to me
when the woman whom I was to have in her stead went away. I did not
know whether this could be arranged; but I felt confident that I
could effect her exit without her feigning herself ill. The prison
governor had already then as clerk Peder Jensen Totzloff,[E44] who
now and then performed his duties. To this man I made the proposal,
mentioning at the same time with compassion the ill health of the
woman. I talked afterwards with the prison governor himself about it,
and he was quite satisfied; for he not only liked this Karen very
much, but he had moreover a woman in the house whom he wished to
place with me instead.
[E44] His name was Torslev; see the Introduction and the
Autobiography.
Karen, Nils' daughter, left me one evening in 1669, and a German
named Cathrina ----[E45] came in her place. Karen took her departure
with many tears. She had wept almost the whole day, and I promised to
do my utmost that she should come to me when the other went away.
Cathrina had been among soldiers from her youth up; she had married a
lieutenant at the time the prison governor was a drummer, and had
stood godmother to one of his sons. She had fallen into poverty after
her husband's death, and had sat and spun with the wife of the prison
governor for her food. She was greatly given to drinking, and her
hands trembled so that she could not hold the cup, but was obliged to
support it against her person, and the soup-plate also. The prison
governor told me before she came up that her hands occasionally
trembled a little, but not always--that she had been ill a short time
before, and that it would probably pass off. When I asked herself how
it came on, she said she had had it for many years. I said, 'You are
not a woman fit to wait upon me; for if I should be ill, as I was a
year or somewhat less ago, you could not properly attend to me.' She
fell at once down on her knees, wept bitterly, and prayed for God's
sake that she might remain; that she was a poor widow, and that she
had promised the prison governor half the money she was to earn; she
would pray heartily to God that I might not be ill, and that she
would be true to me, aye, even die for me.
[E45] The name is in blanco; she was probably the Catharina Wolf
which is mentioned in the Preface.
It seemed to me that this last was too much of an exaggeration for me
to believe it (she kept her word, however, and did what I ordered
her, and I was not ill during her time). She did not care to work.
She generally laid down when she had eaten, and drew the coverlid
over her eyes, saying 'Now I can see nothing.' When she perceived
that I liked her to talk, she related whole comedies in her way,
often acting them, and representing various personages. If she began
to tell a story, and I said in the middle of her narrative, 'This
will have a sorrowful ending,' she would say, 'No, it ends
pleasantly,' and she would give her story a good ending. She would do
the reverse, if I said the contrary. She would dance also before me,
and that for four persons, speaking as she did so for each whom she
was representing, and pinching together her mouth and fingers. She
called comedians 'Medicoants.' Various things occurred during her
time, which prevented me from looking at her and listening to her as
much as she liked.[124]
[124] In the margin is added: 'A few months after she had come to
me, she had an attack of ague. She wept, and was afraid. I was well
satisfied with her, and thought I would see what faith could do, so
I wrote something on a slip of paper and hung it round her neck.
The fever left her, and she protested that all her bodily pains
passed all at once into her legs when I hung the paper round her
neck. Her legs immediately became much swollen.'
It happened that Walter,[E46] who in consequence of Dina's affair had
been exiled from Denmark, came over from Sweden and remained
incognito at Copenhagen. He was arrested and placed in the tower
here, below on the ground floor. He was suspected of being engaged
in some plot. At the same time a French cook and a Swedish baker were
imprisoned with him, who were accused of having intended to poison
the King and Queen. The Swede was placed in the Witch Cell,
immediately after Walter's arrest. Some days elapsed before I was
allowed to know of Walter's arrival, but I knew of it nevertheless.
One day at noon, when Walter and the Frenchman were talking aloud
(for they were always disputing with each other), I asked the prison
governor who were his guests down below, who were talking French. He
answered that he had some of various nations, and related who they
were, but why they were imprisoned he knew not, especially in
Walter's case.
[E46] Walter's participation in the plot of Dina is mentioned in
the Introduction. He was then ordered to leave the country, but
afterwards obtained a pardon and permission to return. He does not
seem to have availed himself of this till the year 1668; but his
conduct was very suspicious, and he was at once arrested and placed
in the Blue Tower, where he died towards the end of April 1670.
The two before-mentioned quarrelled together, so that Walter was
placed in the Witch Cell with the Swede, and the Frenchman was
conveyed to the Dark Church, where he was ill, and never even came to
the peep-hole in the door, but lay just within. I dared not send him
anything, on account of the accusation against him. Walter was
imprisoned for a long time, and the Frenchman was liberated. When M.
Bock came to me, to give me Christ's body and blood, I told him
before receiving the Lord's Supper of Walter's affair, which had been
proved, but I mentioned to him that at the time I had been requested
to leave Denmark through Uldrich Christian Gyldenlove. Gyldenlove had
sworn to me that the king was at the time not thoroughly convinced of
the matter, and I had complained that his Majesty had not taken pains
to convince himself; and I requested the priest to ask the
Stadtholder to manage that Walter should now be examined in Dina's
affair, and that he and I should be confronted together in the
presence of some ministers; that this could be done without any
great noise, for the gentlemen could come through the secret passage
into the tower. The priest promised to arrange this;[125] he did so,
and on the third day after Walter was placed in the Dark Church, so
that I expected for a long time every day that we should be examined,
but it was prevented by the person whose interest it was to prevent
it.[E47]
[125] In the margin is added: 'When the priest left me, he spoke
with Walter in front of the grated hole, told him of my desire, and
its probable result. Walter laughed ironically, and said, "My hair
will not stand on end for fear of that matter being mooted again.
The Queen knows that full well. Say that too!" While Walter was in
the Witch Cell hole, he had written to the Queen, but the King
received the paper.'
[E47] Leonora alludes, no doubt, to the Queen Sophia Amalia.
Walter remained imprisoned,[126] and quarrelled almost daily with
Chresten, calling him a thief and a robber. (Chresten had found some
ducats which Walter had concealed under a stool; the foolish Walter
allowed the Swede to see that he hid ducats and an ink-bottle between
the girths under the stool, and he afterwards struck the Swede, who
betrayed him.) Chresten slyly allowed Walter to take a little
exercise in the hall of the tower, and in the meanwhile he searched
the stool. It may well be imagined that at the everlasting scolding
Chresten was annoyed, and he did not procure Walter particularly good
food from the kitchen; so that sometimes he could not eat either of
the two dishes ordered for him; and when Walter said one day, 'If you
would give me only one dish of which I could eat, it would be quite
enough,' Chresten arranged it so that Walter only received one dish,
and often could not eat of that. (This was to Chresten's own damage,
for he was entitled to the food that was left; but he was ready to
forego this, so long as he could annoy the others.)
[126] In the margin is noted: 'I looked through a hole in my
outermost door at the time that Walter was brought up in the Dark
Church. He wept aloud. I afterwards saw him once in front of the
hole of the door of his cell. He was very dirty, and had a large
beard full of dirt, very clotted.'