Karen, Nil's daughter. Chresten, who had to make a fire in the stove
an hour before supper (since it had no flue), so that the smoke could
pass out at the staircase door before I supped, did not come one
evening before six o'clock, and was then quite tipsy. And as I was
sitting at the time near the stove in the outer apartment on a log of
wood, which had been hewed as a seat, I said it was late to make the
fire, as he must now go into the kitchen. He paid no attention to my
gentle remark, until I threatened him with hard words, and ordered
him to take the wood out. He was angry, and would not use the tongs
to take the wood out, nor would he permit Karen to take them out with
the tongs; but he tore them out with his hands, and said, 'Nothing
can burn me.' And as some little time elapsed before the wood was
extinguished, he began to fear that it would give little satisfaction
if he so long delayed fetching the meal. He seated himself flat on
the ground and was rather dejected; presently he burst out and said,
'Oh God, you who have had house and lands, where are you now
sitting?' I said, 'On a log of wood!' He answered, 'I do not mean
your ladyship!' I asked, 'Whom does your worship mean, then?' He
replied, 'I mean Karen.' I laughed, and said no more.
To enumerate all the contemptuous conduct I endured would be too
lengthy, and not worth the trouble. One thing I will yet mention of
the tower-warder Chresten, who caused me great annoyance at the end
of this tenth year of my imprisonment. Among other annoyances he once
struck my dog, so that it cried. I did not see it, but I heard it,
and the woman told me it was he who had struck the dog. I was greatly
displeased at it. He laughed at this, and said, 'It is only a dog.' I
gave him to understand that he struck the dog because he did not
venture to strike me. He laughed heartily at the idea, and I said, 'I
do not care for your anger so long as the prison governor is my
friend' (this conversation took place while I was at a meal, and the
prison governor was sitting with me, and Chresten was standing at the
door of my apartment, stretching out his arms.) I said, 'The prison
governor and you will both get into heavy trouble, if I choose. Do
you hear that, good people?' (I knew of too many things, which they
wished to hide, in more than one respect.) The prison governor sat
like one deaf and dumb, and remained seated, but Chresten turned away
somewhat ashamed, without saying another word. He had afterwards some
fear of me, when he was not too intoxicated; for at such times he
cared not what he said, as regards high or low. He was afterwards
insolent to the woman, and said he would strike the dog, and that I
should see him do so. This, however, he did not do.
Chresten's fool-hardiness increased, so that Peder Totzloff informed
the prison governor of his bad behaviour, and of my complaints of the
wild doings of the prisoners, who made such a noise by night that I
could not sleep for it, for Chresten spent the night at his home, and
allowed the prisoners to do as they chose. Upon this information, the
prison governor placed a padlock upon the tower door at night, so
that Chresten could not get out until the door was unlocked in the
morning. This annoyed him, and he demanded his discharge, which he
received on April 24, 1674; and in his place there came a man named
Gert, who had been in the service of the prison governor as a
coachman.
In this year, the ---- May, I wrote a spiritual 'Song in Remembrance
of God's Goodness,' after the melody 'Nun ruhen alle Waelder.'
I.
My heart! True courage find!
God's goodness bear in mind,
And how He, ever nigh,
Helps me my load to bear,
Nor utterly despair
Tho' in such heavy bonds I lie.
II.
Ne'er from my thoughts shall stray
How once I lingering lay
In the dark dungeon cell;
My cares and bitter fears,
And ridicule and tears,
And God the Lord upheld me well.
III.
Think on my misery
And sad captivity
Thro' many a dreary year!
Yet nought my heart distresses;
The Lord He proves and blesses,
And He protects me even here!
IV.
Come heart and soul elate!
And let me now relate
The wonders of God's skill!
He was my preservation
In danger and temptation,
And kept me from impending ill.
V.
The end seemed drawing near,
I wrung my hands with fear,
Yet has He helped me e'er;
My refuge and my guide,
On Him I have relied,
And He has ever known my care.
VI.
Thanks to Thee, fount of good!
Thou canst no evil brood,
Thy blows are fatherly;
When cruel power oppressed me,
Thy hand has ever blessed me,
And Thou has sheltered me!
VII.
Before Thee, Lord, I lie;
Give me my liberty
Before my course is run;
Thy Gracious Hands extend
And let my suffering end!
Yet not my will, but Thine, be done.
In this year, on July 25, his royal Majesty was gracious enough to
have a large window made again in my inner apartment; it had been
walled up when I had been brought into this chamber. A stove was also
placed there, the flue of which passed out into the square. The
prison governor was not well satisfied at this, especially as he was
obliged to be present during the work; this did not suit his
laziness. My doors were open during the time; it was twelve days
before the work was finished. He grumbled, and did not wish that the
window should be made as low as it had been before I was imprisoned
here; I persuaded the mason's journeyman to cut down the wall as low
as it had before been, which the prison governor perceived from the
palace square, and he came running up and scolded, and was thoroughly
angry. But it was not to be changed, for the window-frame was already
made. I asked him what it mattered to him if the window was a stone
lower; it did not go lower than the iron grating, and it had formerly
been so. He would have his will, so that the mason walled it up a
stone higher while the prison governor was there, and removed it
again afterwards, for the window-frame, which was ready, would not
otherwise have fitted.
In the same year Karen, Nil's daughter, left me for the third and
last time, and in her stead came a woman named Barbra, the widow of a
bookbinder. She is a woman of a melancholy turn. Her conscience is
aroused sometimes, so that she often enumerates her own misdeeds (but
not so great as they have been, and as I have found out by enquiry).
She had two children, and it seems from her own account that she was
to some extent guilty of their death, for she says: 'Who can have any
care for a child when one does not love its father?' She left her
husband two years before he died, and repaired to Hamburg, supporting
herself by spinning; she had before been in the service of a princess
as a spinning-maid. Her father is alive, and was bookbinder to the
King's Majesty; he has just now had a stroke of paralysis, and is
lying very ill. She has no sympathy with her father, and wishes him
dead (which would perhaps be the best thing for him); but it vexes me
that she behaves so badly to her sister, who is the wife of a tailor,
and I often tell her that in this she is committing a double sin; for
the needy sister comes from time to time for something to eat. If she
does not come exactly on the evening which she has agreed upon, she
gets nothing, and the food is thrown away upstairs. When at some
length I place her sin before her, she says, 'That meat is bad.' I
ask her why she let it get bad, and did not give it in time to her
sister. To this she answers that her sister is not worthy of it. I
predict evil things which will happen to her in future, as they have
done to others whom I enumerate to her. At this she throws back her
head and is silent.
At this time her Majesty the Queen sent me some silkworms to beguile
the time. When they had finished spinning, I sent them back to her
Majesty in a box which I had covered with carnation-coloured satin,
upon which I had embroidered a pattern with gold thread. Inside, the
box was lined with white taffeta. In the lid I embroidered with black
silk a humble request that her Majesty would loose my bonds, and
would fetter me anew with the hand of favour. Her Majesty the
virtuous Queen would have granted my request had it rested with her.
The prison governor became gradually more sensible and accommodating,
drank less wine, and made no jokes. I had peace within my doors. The
woman sat during the day outside in the other apartment, and lay
there also in the night, so that I began not to fret so much over my
hard fate. I passed the year with reading, writing, and composing.
For some time past, immediately after I had received the yearly
pension, I had bought for myself not only historical works in various
languages, but I had gathered and translated from them all the famous
female personages, who were celebrated as true, chaste, sensible,
valorous, virtuous, God-fearing, learned, and steadfast; and in anno
1675, on January 9, I amused myself with making some rhymes to M.
Thomas Kingo, under the title, 'To the much-famed Poet M. Thomas
Kingo, a Request from a Danish Woman in the name of all Danish
Women.' The request was this, that he would exhibit in befitting
honour the virtuous and praiseworthy Danish women. There are, indeed,
virtuous women belonging to other nations, but I requested only his
praise of the Danish. This never reached Kingo; but if my good friend
to whom I entrust these papers still lives, it will fall probably
into your hands, my beloved children.
In the same year, on May 11, I wrote in rhyme a controversial
conversation between Sense and Reason; entitled, 'Controversial
Thoughts by the Captive Widow, or the Dispute between Sense and
Reason.'
Nothing else occurred this year within the doors of my prison which
is worth recording, except one event--namely, when the outermost door
of the anteroom was unlocked in the morning for the sake of sweeping
away the dirt and bringing in fresh water, and the tower-warder
occasionally let it stand open till meal-time and then closed it
again, it happened that a fire broke out in the town and the bells
were tolled. I and the woman ran up to the top of the tower to see
where it was burning.
When I was on the stairs which led up to the clock-work, the prison
governor came, and with him was a servant from the silver-chamber. He
first perceived my dog, then he saw somewhat of the woman, and
thought probably that I was there also; he was so wise as not to come
up the stairs, but remained below at the lowest holes, from whence
one can look out over the town, and left me time enough to get down
again and shut my door. Gert was sorry, and came afterwards to the
door and told me of his distress. I consoled him, and said there was
nothing to fear. Before the prison governor opened the door at noon,
he struck Gert with his stick, so that he cried, and the prison
governor said with an oath, 'Thou shalt leave.' When the prison
governor came in, I was the first to speak, and I said: 'It is not
right in you to beat the poor devil; he could not help it. The
executioner came up as he was going to lock my door, and that made
him forget to do so.' He threatened Gert severely, and said, 'I
should not have minded it so much had not that other servant been
with me.'
The words at once occurred to me which he had said to me a long time
before, namely that no woman could be silent, but that all men could
be silent (when he had asserted this, I had thought, if this be so,
then my adversaries might believe that I, had I known of anything
which they had in view, should not have been able to keep silence).
So I now answered him thus: 'Well, and what does that signify? It was
a man; they can all keep silence; there is no harm done.' He could
not help laughing, and said, 'Well, you are good enough.' I then
talked to him, and assured him that I had no desire to leave the
tower without the King's will, even though day and night all the
tower doors were left open, and I also said that I could have got out
long ago, if that had been my design. Gert continued in his service,
and the prison governor never told Gert to shut me in in the
morning.[142]
[142] In the margin is noted: 'At my desire the prison governor
gave me a rat whose tail he had cut off; this I placed in a
parrot's cage, and gave it food, so that it grew very tame. The
woman grudged me this amusement; and as the cage hung in the outer
apartment, and had a wire grating underneath, so that the dirt
might fall out, she burned the rat with a candle from below. It was
easy to perceive it, but she denied it.'
At this time I had bought myself a clavicordium, and as Barbra could
sing well, I played psalms and she sang, so that the time was not
long to us. She taught me to bind books, so far as I needed.[E56]
[E56] The MS. itself is bound in a very primitive manner, which
renders it probable that Leonora has done it herself.
My father confessor, H. Emmeke, became a preacher at Kioge anno 1676.
In the same year my pension was increased, and I received yearly 250
rix-dollars. It stands in the order that the 200 rix-dollars were to
be used for the purchase of clothes and the remaining fifty to buy
anything which might beguile the time.[E57] God bless and keep his
gracious Majesty, and grant that he may live to enjoy many happy
years.
[E57] It appears from the State accounts that ever since the year
1672 a sum of 250 dollars a year had been placed at her disposal.
It would seem, therefore, that somehow or other a part of them had
been unlawfully abstracted by someone during the first years.
Brant was at this time treasurer.
On December 17 in this same year Barbra left me, and married a
bookbinder's apprentice; but she repented it afterwards. And as her
husband died a year and a half after her marriage, and that suddenly,
suspicion fell upon Barbra. She afterwards went to her brother's
house and fell ill. Her conscience was awakened, and she sent for
Totzloff and told almost in plain terms that she had poisoned her
husband, and begged him to tell me so. I was not much astonished at
it, for according to her own account she had before killed her own
children; but I told Peder Totzloff that he was not to speak of it;
if God willed that it should be made known, it would be so
notwithstanding; the brother and the maid in the house knew it; he
was not to go there again, even if she sent a message to him. She
became quite insane, and lay in a miserable condition. The brother
subsequently had her removed to the plague-house.
In Barbra's place there came to me a woman named Sitzel, daughter of
a certain Klemming; Maren Blocks had brought about her employment, as
Sitzel owed her money. She is a dissolute woman, and Maren gave her
out as a spinster; she had a white cap on her head when she came up.
Sitzel's debt to Maren had arisen in this way: that Maren--since
Sitzel could make buttons, and the button-makers had quarrelled with
her--obtained for her a royal licence in order to free her from the
opposition of the button-makers, under the pretext that she was
sickly. When the door was locked in the evening, I requested to see
the royal licence which Maren had obtained for her. And when I saw
that she was styled in it the sickly woman, I asked her what her
infirmity was. She replied that she had no infirmity. 'Why, then,' I
asked, 'have you given yourself out as sickly?' She answered, 'That
was Maren Block's doing, in order to get for me the royal licence.'
'In the licence,' I said, 'you are spoken of as a married woman, and
not as a spinster; have you, then, been seduced?' She hung her head
and said softly, 'Yes.'
I was not satisfied. I said, 'Maren Block has obtained the royal
licence for you by lies, and has brought you to me by lies; what,
then, can I expect from your service?' She begged my pardon, promised
to serve me well, and never to act contrary to my wishes. She is a
dangerous person; there is nothing good in her; bold and shameless,
she is not even afraid of fighting a man. She struck two
button-makers one day, who wanted to take away her work, till they
were obliged to run away. With me she had no opportunity of thus
displaying her evil passions, but still they were perceptible in
various ways. One day I warded off a scuffle between her and Maren
Blocks; for when Maren Blocks had got back the money which she had
expended on the royal licence for Sitzel, she wanted to remove her
from me, and to bring another into her place; but I sent word to
Maren Blocks that she must not imagine she could send me another whom
I must take. It was enough that she had done this time.[143]
[143] In the margin stood originally the following note, which has
afterwards been struck out: 'In this year, 1676, the prison
governor married for the third time; he married a woman who herself
had had two husbands. Anno 1677, Aug. 9, died my sister Elisabeth
Augusta.'
In the place of H. Emmeke Norbye, H. Johan Adolf Borneman became
palace-preacher; a very learned and sensible man, who now became my
father confessor, and performed the duties of his office for the
first time on April 10, 1677.
On October 9, in the same year, my father confessor was Magister
Hendrich Borneman, dean of the church of Our Lady (a learned and
excellent man), his brother H. Johan Adolf Borneman having
accompanied the King's Majesty on a journey.
I have, thank God, spent this year in repose: reading, writing, and
composing various things.
Anno 1678 it was brought about for me that my father-confessor, H.
Johan Adolf Borneman, should come to me every six weeks and preach a
short sermon.
In this year, on Easter-Day, Agneta Sophia Budde was brought to the
tower. Her prison was above my innermost apartment. She was accused
of having designed to poison the Countess Skeel; and as she was a
young person, and had a waiting-woman in her attendance who was also
young, they clamoured to such an extent all day that I had no peace
for them. I said nothing, however, about it, thinking she would
probably be quiet when she knew that her life was at stake. But no!
she was merry to the day on which she was executed![144]
[144] On a piece of paper which is fastened to the MS. by a pin is
the following note referring to the same matter: 'On March 4, in
the same year 1678, a woman named Lucia, who had been in the
service of Lady Rigitze Grubbe, became my neighbour. She was
accused by Agneta Sophia Budde, as the person who at the
instigation of her mistress had persuaded her to poison Countess F.
Birrete Skeel, and that Lucia had brought her the poison. There was
evidence as to the person from whom Lucia had bought the poison.
This woman was a steady faithful servant. She received everything
that was imposed upon her with the greatest patience, and held out
courageously in the Dark Cell. She had two men as companions, both
of whom cried, moaned and wept. From the Countess Skeel (who had to
supply her with food) meat was sent her which was full of maggots
and mouldy bread. I took pity on her (not for the sake of her
mistress, for she had rendered me little good service, and had
rewarded me evil for the benefits of former times, but out of
sympathy). And I sent her meat and drink and money that she might
soften Gert, who was too hard to her. She was tortured, but would
not confess any thing of what she was accused, and always defended
her mistress. She remained a long time in prison.[E58]
[E58] The acts of this famous trial are still in existence.
Originally the quarrel arose out of the fact that the Countess
Parsberg (born Skeel) had obtained a higher rank than Lady Grubbe,
and was further envenomed by some dispute about a window in the
house of the latter which looked down on the courtyard of the
Countess's house. Regitze Grubbe (widow of Hans Ulrik Gyldenlove,
natural son of Christian IV. and half-brother of Ulrik Christian
Gyldenlove, as well as of Leonora Christina), persuaded another
noble lady, Agnete Budde, through a servant, to poison Countess
Parsberg. Miss Budde was beheaded, the girl Lucie was exiled, and
Lady Grubbe relegated for life to the island of Bornholm.
In the same year, on the morning of July 9, the tower-warder Gert was
killed by a thief who was under sentence of death, and to whom he had
allowed too great liberty. I will mention this incident somewhat more
in detail, as I had advised Gert not to give this prisoner so much
liberty; but to his own misfortune he paid no attention to my advice.
This thief had broken by night into the house of a clergyman, and had
stolen a boiling-copper, which he had carried on his head to
Copenhagen; he was seized with it at the gate in the morning, and was
placed here in the tower. He was condemned to be hanged (he had
committed various other thefts). The priest allowed the execution to
be delayed; he did not wish to have him hanged. Then it was said he
was to go to the Holm; but he remained long in prison. At first, and
until the time that his going to the Holm was talked of, he was my
neighbour in the Dark Church; he behaved quite as a God-fearing man,
read (apparently) with devotion, and prayed to God for forgiveness of
his sins with most profound sighs. The rogue knew that I could hear
him, and I sent him occasionally something to eat. Gert took pity on
him, and allowed him to go by day about the basement story of the
tower, and shut him up at night again.
Afterwards he allowed him also at night to remain below. And as I had
seen the thief once or twice when my door stood open, and he went
past, it seemed to me that he had a murderous countenance; and for
this reason, when I heard that the thief was not placed of an evening
in the Dark Church, I said to Gert that he ventured too far, in
letting him remain below at night; that there was roguery lurking in
him; that he would certainly some day escape, and then, on his
account, Gert would get into trouble. Gert was not of opinion that
the thief wished to run away; he had no longer any fear of being
hanged; he had been so delighted that he was to go to the Holm, there
was no danger in it. I thought 'That is a delight which does not
reach further than the lips,' and I begged him that he would lock him
up at night. No; Gert feared nothing; he even went farther, and
allowed the thief to go up the tower instead of himself, and attend
to the clock-work.
Three days before the murder took place, I spoke with Gert, when he
unlocked my door in the morning, of the danger to which he exposed
himself by the liberty he allowed the thief, but Gert did not fear
it. Meanwhile my dog placed himself exactly in front of Gert, and
howled in his face. When we were at dinner, the dog ran down and
howled three times at the tower-warder's door. Never before had I
heard the dog howl.
On July 19 (as I have said), when Gert's unfortunate morning had
arrived, the thief came down from the clock-work, and said that he
could not manage it alone, as the cords were entangled. The rogue had
an iron rod ready above, in order to effect his project. Gert went
upstairs, but was carried down. The thief ran down after Gert was
dead, opened his box, took out the money, and went out of the tower.
It was a Friday, and the bells were to be rung for service. Those
whose duty it was to ring them knocked at the tower door, but no one
opened. Totzloff came with the principal key and opened, and spoke to
me and wondered that Gert was not there at that time of the day. I
said: 'All is not right; this morning between four and five I was
rather unwell, and I heard three people going upstairs and after a
time two coming down again.' Totzloff locked my door and went down.
Just then one of the ringers came down, and informed them that Gert
was lying upstairs dead. When the dead man was examined, he had more
than one wound, but all at the back of the head. He was a very bold
man, courageous, and strong; one man could not be supposed to have
done this to him.
The thief was seized the same evening, and confessed how it had
happened: that, namely, a prisoner who was confined in the Witch
Cell, a licentiate of the name of Moritius, had persuaded him to it.
This same Moritius had great enmity against Gert. It is true that
Gert took too much from him weekly for his food. But it is also true
that this Moritius was a very godless fellow; the priest who
confesses him gives him no good character. I believe, indeed, that
Moritius was an accessory, but I believe also that another prisoner,
who was confined in the basement of the tower, had a hand in the
game. For who should have locked the tower-door again after the
imprisoned thief, had not one of these done so? For when the key was
looked for, it was found hidden above in the tower; this could not
have been done by the thief after he was out of the tower. The thief,
moreover, could not have unlocked Gert's box and taken his money
without the knowledge of Moritius. The other prisoner must also have
been aware of it. It seems to me that it was hushed up, in order that
no more should die for this murder; for the matter was not only not
investigated as was befitting, but the thief was confined down below
in the tower. He was bound with iron fetters, but Moritius could
speak with him everyday: and for this reason the thief departed from
his earlier statement, and said that he alone had committed the
murder. He was executed on August 8, and Moritius was taken to
Borringholm, and kept as a prisoner there.[E55b]