CHAPTER I.

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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. I.

1894

DEDICATION OF THE GERMAN EDITION.

TO THE ILLUSTRIOUS

_LADY LUCY DUFF GORDON,_

THE

YOUNG AND GIFTED TRANSLATOR

OF

_"THE AMBER WITCH,"_

THIS WORK IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED.

PREFACE

Amongst all the trials for witchcraft with which we are

acquainted, few have attained so great a celebrity as that of the

Lady Canoness of Pomerania, Sidonia von Bork. She was accused of

having by her sorceries caused sterility in many families,

particularly in that of the ancient reigning house of Pomerania,

and also of having destroyed the noblest scions of that house by

an early and premature death. Notwithstanding the intercessions

and entreaties of the Prince of Brandenburg and Saxony, and of the

resident Pomeranian nobility, she was publicly executed for these

crimes on the 19th of August 1620, on the public scaffold, at

Stettin; the only favour granted being, that she was allowed to be

beheaded first and then burned.

This terrible example caused such a panic of horror, that

contemporary authors scarcely dare to mention her name, and, even

then, merely by giving the initials. This forbearance arose partly

from respect towards the ancient family of the Von Borks, who

then, as now, were amongst the most illustrious and wealthy in the

land, and also from the fear of offending the reigning ducal

family, as the Sorceress, in her youth, had stood in a very near

and tender relation to the young Duke Ernest Louis von

Pommern-Wolgast.

These reasons will be sufficiently comprehensible to all who are

familiar with the disgust and aversion in which the paramours of

the evil one were held in that age, so that even upon the rack

these subjects were scarcely touched upon.

The first public, judicial, yet disconnected account of Sidonia's

trial, we find in the Pomeranian Library of Dähnert, fourth

volume, article 7, July number of the year 1755.

Dähnert here acknowledges, page 241, that the numbers from 302 to

1080, containing the depositions of the witnesses, were not

forthcoming up to his time, but that a priest in Pansin, near

Stargard, by name Justus Sagebaum, pretended to have them in his

hands, and accordingly, in the fifth volume of the above-named

journal (article 4, of April 1756), some very important extracts

appear from them.

The records, however, again disappeared for nearly a century,

until Barthold announced, some short time since, [Footnote:

"History of Rugen and Pomerania," vol. iv. p. 486.] that he had at

length discovered them in the Berlin Library; but he does not say

which, for, according to Schwalenberg, who quotes Dähnert, there

existed two or three different copies, namely, the _Protocollum

Jodoci Neumarks,_ the so-called _Acta Lothmanni,_ and that

of _Adami Moesters,_ contradicting each other in the most

important matters. Whether I have drawn the history of my Sidonia

from one or other of the above-named sources, or from some

entirely new, or, finally, from that alone which is longest known,

I shall leave undecided.

Every one who has heard of the animadversions which "The Amber

Witch" excited, many asserting that it was only dressed-up

history, though I repeatedly assured them it was simple fiction,

will pardon me if I do not here distinctly declare whether Sidonia

be history or fiction.

The truth of the material, as well as of the formal contents, can

be tested by any one by referring to the authorities I have named;

and in connection with these, I must just remark, that in order to

spare the reader any difficulties which might present themselves

to eye and ear, in consequence of the old-fashioned mode of

writing, I have modernised the orthography, and amended the

grammar and structure of the phrases. And lastly, I trust that all

just thinkers of every party will pardon me for having here and

there introduced my supernatural views of Christianity. A man's

principles, as put forward in his philosophical writings, are in

general only read by his own party, and not by that of his

adversaries. A Rationalist will fly from a book by a

Supernaturalist as rapidly as this latter from one by a Friend of

Light. But by introducing my views in the manner I have adopted,

in place of publishing them in a distinct volume, I trust that all

parties will be induced to peruse them, and that many will find,

not only what is worthy their particular attention, but matter for

deep and serious reflection.

I must now give an account of those portraits of Sidonia which are

extant.

As far as I know, three of these (besides innumerable sketches)

exist, one in Stettin, the other in the lower Pomeranian town

Plathe, and a third at Stargard, near Regenwalde, in the castle of

the Count von Bork. I am acquainted only with the last-named

picture, and agree with many in thinking that it is the only

original.

Sidonia is here represented in the prime of mature beauty--a gold

net is drawn over her almost golden yellow hair, and her neck,

arms, and hands are profusely covered with jewels. Her bodice of

bright purple is trimmed with costly fur, and the robe is of azure

velvet. In her hand she carries a sort of pompadour of brown

leather, of the most elegant form and finish. Her eyes and mouth

are not pleasing, notwithstanding their great beauty--in the

mouth, particularly, one can discover an expression of cold

malignity.

The painting is beautifully executed, and is evidently of the

school of Louis Kranach.

Immediately behind this form there is another looking over the

shoulder of Sidonia, like a terrible spectre (a highly poetical

idea), for this spectre is Sidonia herself painted as a Sorceress.

It must have been added, after a lapse of many years, to the

youthful portrait, which belongs, as I have said, to the school of

Kranach, whereas the second figure portrays unmistakably the

school of Rubens. It is a fearfully characteristic painting, and

no imagination could conceive a contrast more shudderingly awful.

The Sorceress is arrayed in her death garments--white with black

stripes; and round her thin white locks is bound a narrow band of

black velvet spotted with gold. In her hand is a kind of a

work-basket, but of the simplest workmanship and form.

Of the other portraits I cannot speak from my own personal

inspection; but to judge by the drawings taken from them to which

I have had access, they appear to differ completely, not only in

costume, but in the character of the countenance, from the one I

have described, which there is no doubt must be the original, not

only because it bears all the characteristics of that school of

painting which approached nearest to the age in which Sidonia

lived--namely, from 1540 to 1620--but also by the fact that a

sheet of paper bearing an inscription was found behind the

painting, betraying evident marks of age in its blackened colour,

the form of the letters, and the expressions employed. The

inscription is as follows:--

"This Sidonia von Bork was in her youth the most beautiful and the

richest of the maidens of Pomerania. She inherited many estates

from her parents, and thus was in her own right a possessor almost

of a county. So her pride increased, and many noble gentlemen who

sought her in marriage were rejected with disdain, as she

considered that a count or prince alone could be worthy of her

hand. For these reasons she attended the Duke's court frequently,

in the hopes of winning over one of the seven young princes to her

love. At length she was successful; Duke Ernest Louis von Wolgast,

aged about twenty, and the handsomest youth in Pomerania, became

her lover, and even promised her his hand in marriage. This

promise he would faithfully have kept if the Stettin princes, who

were displeased at the prospect of this unequal alliance, had not

induced him to abandon Sidonia, by means of the portrait of the

Princess Hedwig of Brunswick, the most beautiful princess in all

Germany. Sidonia thereupon fell into such despair, that she

resolved to renounce marriage for ever, and bury the remainder of

her life in the convent of Marienfliess, and thus she did. But the

wrong done to her by the Stettin princes lay heavy upon her heart,

and the desire for revenge increased with years; besides, in place

of reading the Bible, her private hours were passed studying the

_Amadis_, wherein she found many examples of how forsaken

maidens have avenged themselves upon their false lovers by means

of magic. So she at last yielded to the temptations of Satan, and

after some years learned the secrets of witchcraft from an old

woman. By means of this unholy knowledge, along with several other

evil deeds, she so bewitched the whole princely race that the six

young princes, who were each wedded to a young wife, remained

childless; but no public notice was taken until Duke Francis

succeeded to the duchy in 1618. He was a ruthless enemy to

witches; all in the land were sought out with great diligence and

burned, and as they unanimously named the Abbess of Marienfliess

[Footnote: Sidonia never attained this dignity, though Micraelius

and others gave her the title.] upon the rack, she was brought to

Stettin by command of the Duke, where she freely confessed all the

evil wrought by her sorceries upon the princely race.

"The Duke promised her life and pardon if she would free the other

princes from the ban; but her answer was that she had enclosed the

spell in a padlock, and flung it into the sea, and having asked

the devil if he could restore the padlock again to her, he

replied, 'No; that was forbidden to him;' by which every one can

perceive that the destiny of God was in the matter.

"And so it was that, notwithstanding the intercession of all the

neighbouring courts, Sidonia was brought to the scaffold at

Stettin, there beheaded, and afterwards burned.

"Before her death the Prince ordered her portrait to be painted,

in her old age and prison garb, behind that which represented her

in the prime of youth. After his death, Bogislaff XIV., the last

Duke, gave this picture to my grandmother, whose husband had also

been killed by the Sorceress. My father received it from her, and

I from him, along with the story which is here written down.

"HENRY GUSTAVUS SCHWALENBERG."

[Footnote: The style of this "Inscription" proves it to have been

written in the beginning of the preceding century, but it is first

noticed by Dähnert. I have had his version compared with the

original in Stargord--through the kindness of a friend, who

assures me that the transcription is perfectly correct, and yet

can he be mistaken? for Horst (Magic Library, vol. ii. p. 246),

gives the conclusion thus: "From whom my father received it, and I

from him, along with the story precisely as given here by H. G.

Schwalenberg." By this reading, which must have escaped my friend,

a different sense is given to the passage; by the last reading it

would appear that the "I" was a Bork, who had taken the tale from

Schwalenberg's history of the Pomeranian Dukes, a work which

exists only in manuscript, and to which I have had no access; but

if we admit the first reading, then the writer must be a

Schwalenberg. Even the "grandmother" will not clear up the matter,

for Sidonia, when put to the torture, confessed, at the seventh

question, that she had caused the death of Doctor Schwalenberg (he

was counsellor in Stettin then), and at the eleventh question,

that her brother's son, Otto Bork, had died also by her means. Who

then is this "I"? Even Sidonia's picture, we see, utters

mysteries.

In my opinion the writer was Schwalenberg, and Horst seems to have

taken his version from Paulis's "General History of Pomerania,"

vol. iv. p. 396, and not from the original of Dähnert.

For the picture at that early period was not in the possession of

a Bork, but belonged to the Count von Mellin in Schillersdorf, as

passages from many authors can testify. This is confirmed by

another paper found along with that containing the tradition, but

of much more modern appearance, which states that the picture was

removed by successive inheritors, first from Schillersdorf to

Stargord, from thence to Heinrichsberg (there are three towns in

Pomerania of this name), and finally from Heinrichsberg, in the

year 1834, was a second time removed to Stargord by the last

inheritor.

This Schillersdorf lies between Gartz and Stettin on the Oder.

WILLIAM MEINHOLD.]

LETTER OF DR. THEODORE PLÖNNIES

TO BOGISLAFF THE FOURTEENTH, THE LAST DUKE OF POMERANIA.

MOST EMINENT PRINCE AND GRACIOUS LORD,--Serene Prince, your

Highness gave me a commission in past years to travel through all

Pomerania, and if I met with any persons who could give me certain

"information" respecting the notorious and accursed witch Sidonia

von Bork, to set down carefully all they stated, and bring it

afterwards into _connexum_ for your Highness. It is well

known that Duke Francis, of blessed memory, never would permit the

accursed deeds of this woman to be made public, or her confession

upon the rack, fearing to bring scandal upon the princely house.

But your Serene Highness viewed the subject differently, and said

that it was good for every one, but especially princes, to look

into the clear mirror of history, and behold there the faults and

follies of their race. For this reason may no truth be omitted

here.

To such princely commands I have proved myself obedient,

collecting all information, whether good or evil, and concealing

nothing. But the greater number who related these things to me

could scarcely speak for tears, for wherever I travelled

throughout Pomerania, as the faithful servant of your Highness,

nothing was heard but lamentations from old and young, rich and

poor, that this execrable Sorceress, out of Satanic wickedness,

had destroyed this illustrious race, who had held their lands from

no emperor, in feudal tenure, like other German princes, but in

their own right, as absolute lords, since five hundred years, and

though for twenty years it seemed to rest upon five goodly

princes, yet by permission of the incomprehensible God, it has now

melted away until your Highness stands the last of his race, and

no prospect is before us that it will ever be restored, but with

your Highness (God have mercy upon us!) will be utterly

extinguished, and for ever. "Woe to us, how have we sinned!"

(Lament, v. 16). [Footnote: Marginal note of Duke Bogislaff

XIV.-"In tuas manus commendo spiritum meum, quia tu me redemisti

fide deus,"]

I pray therefore the all-merciful God, that He will remove me

before your Highness from this vale of tears, that I may not

behold the last hour of your Highness or of my poor fatherland.

Rather than witness these things, I would a thousand times sooner

lie quiet in my grave.

CONTENTS

SIDONIA THE SORCERESS.

BOOK I.

_FROM THE RECEPTION OF SIDONIA AT THE DUCAL COURT OF WOLGAST

UNTIL HER BANISHMENT THEREFROM._

CHAPTER I.

Of the education of Sidonia.

CHAPTER II.

Of the bear-hunt at Stramehl, and the strange things that befell

there.

CHAPTER III.

How Otto von Bork received the homage of his son-in-law, Vidante

von Meseritz--And how the bride and bridegroom proceeded

afterwards to the chapel--Item, what strange things happened at

the wedding-feast.

CHAPTER IV.

How Sidonia came to the court at Wolgast, and of what further

happened to her there.

CHAPTER V.

Sidonia knows nothing of God's Word, but seeks to learn it from

the young Prince of Wolgast.

CHAPTER VI.

How the young Prince prepared a petition to his mother, the

Duchess, in favour of Sidonia--Item, of the strange doings of the

Laplander with his magic drum.

CHAPTER VII.

How Ulrich von Schwerin buries his spouse, and Doctor Gerschovius

comforts him out of God's Word.

CHAPTER VIII.

How Sidonia rides upon the pet stag, and what evil consequences

result therefrom.

CHAPTER IX.

How Sidonia makes the young Prince break his word--Item, how Clara

von Dewitz in vain tries to turn her from her evil ways.

CHAPTER X.

How Sidonia wished to learn the mystery of love-potions, but is

hindered by Clara and the young Prince.

CHAPTER XI.

How Sidonia repeated the catechism of Dr. Gerschovius, and how she

whipped the young Casimir, out of pure evil-mindedness.

CHAPTER XII.

Of Appelmann's knavery--Item, how the birthday of her Highness was

celebrated, and Sidonia managed to get to the dance, with the

uproar caused thereby.

CHAPTER XIII.

How Sidonia is sent away to Stettin--Item, of the young lord's

dangerous illness, and what happened in consequence.

CHAPTER XIV.

How Duke Barnim of Stettin and Otto Bork accompany Sidonia back to

Wolgast.

CHAPTER XV.

Of the grand battue, and what the young Duke and Sidonia resolved

on there.

CHAPTER XVI.

How the ghost continued to haunt the castle, and of its daring

behaviour--Item, how the young lord regained his strength, and was

able to visit Crummyn, with what happened to him there.

CHAPTER XVII.

Of Ulrich's counsels--Item, how Clara von Dewitz came upon the

track of the ghost.

CHAPTER XVIII.

How the horrible wickedness of Sidonia was made apparent; and how

in consequence thereof she was banished with ignominy from the

ducal court of Wolgast.

BOOK II.

_FROM THE BANISHMENT OF SIDONIA FROM THE DUCAL COURT OF WOLGAST

UP TO HER RECEPTION IN THE CONVENT OF MARIENFLIESS._

CHAPTER I.

Of the quarrel between Otto Bork and the Stargardians, which

caused him to demand the dues upon the Jena.

CHAPTER II.

How Otto von Bork demands the Jena dues from the Stargardians, and

how the burgomaster Jacob Appelmann takes him prisoner, and locks

him up in the Red Sea.

CHAPTER III.

Of Otto Bork's dreadful suicide--Item, how Sidonia and Johann

Appelmann were brought before the burgomaster.

CHAPTER IV.

How Sidonia meets Claude Uckermann again, and solicits him to wed

her--Item, what he answered, and how my gracious Lord of Stettin

received her.

CHAPTER V.

How they went on meantime at Wolgast--Item, of the Diet at Wollin,

and what happened there.

CHAPTER VI.

How Sidonia is again discovered with the groom, Johann Appelmann.

CHAPTER VII.

Of the distress in Pomeranian land--Item, how Sidonia and Johann

Appelmann determine to join the robbers in the vicinity of

Stargard.

CHAPTER VIII.

How Johann and Sidonia meet an adventure at Alten Damm--Item, of

their reception by the robber-band.

CHAPTER IX.

How his Highness, Duke Barnim the elder, went a-hawking at

Marienfliess--Item, of the shameful robbery at Zachan, and how

burgomaster Appelmann remonstrates with his abandoned son.

CHAPTER X.

How the robbers attack Prince Ernest and his bride in the

Uckermann forest, and Marcus Bork and Dinnies Kleist come to their

rescue.

CHAPTER XI.

Of the ambassadors in the tavern of Mutzelburg--Item, how the

miller, Konnemann, is discovered, and made by Dinnies Kleist to

act as guide to the robber cave, where they find all the

women-folk lying apparently dead, through some devil's magic of

the gipsy mother.

CHAPTER XII.

How the peasants in Marienfliess want to burn a witch, but are

hindered by Johann Appelmann and Sidonia, who discover an old

acquaintance in the witch, the girl Wolde Albrechts.

CHAPTER XIII.

Of the adventure with the boundary lads, and how one of them

promises to admit Johann Appelmann into the castle of Daber that

same night--Item, of what befell amongst the guests at the castle.

CHAPTER XIV.

How the knave Appelmann seizes his Serene Eminence Duke Johann by

the throat, and how his Grace and the whole castle are saved by

Marcus Bork and his young bride Clara; also, how Sidonia at last

is taken prisoner.

CHAPTER XV.

How Sidonia demeans herself at the castle of Saatzig, and how

Clara forgets the injunctions of her beloved husband, when he

leaves her to attend the Diet at Wollin, on the subject of the

courts--Item, how the Serene Prince Duke Johann Frederick beheads

his court fool with a sausage.

CHAPTER XVI.

How Sidonia makes poor Clara appear quite dead, and of the great

mourning at Saatzig over her burial, while Sidonia dances on her

coffin and sings the 109th psalm--Item, of the sermon, and the

anathema pronounced upon a wicked sinner from the altar of the

church.

CHAPTER XVII.

How Sidonia is chased by the wolves to Rehewinkel, and finds

Johann Appelmann again in the inn, with whom she goes away a

second time by night.

CHAPTER XVIII.

How a new leaf is turned over at Bruchhausen in a very fearful

manner--Old Appelmann takes his worthless son prisoner, and

admonishes him to repentance--Of Johann's wonderful conversion,

and execution next morning in the churchyard, Sidonia being

present thereby.

CHAPTER XIX.

Of Sidonia's disappearance for thirty years--Item, how the young

Princess Elizabeth Magdelene was possessed by a devil, and of the

sudden death of her father, Ernest Ludovicus of Pomerania.

CHAPTER XX.

How Sidonia demeans herself at the Convent of Marienfliess--Item,

how their Princely and Electoral Graces of Pomerania, Brandenburg,

and Mecklenburg, went on sleighs to Wolgast, and of the divers

pastimes of the journey.

CHAPTER XXI.

How Sidonia meets their Graces upon the ice--Item, how Dinnies

Kleist beheads himself, and my gracious lord of Wolgast perishes

miserably.

CHAPTER XXII.

How Barnim the Tenth succeeds to the government, and how Sidonia

meets him as she is gathering bilberries--Item, of the unnatural

witch-storm at his Grace's funeral, and how Duke Casimir refuses,

in consequence, to succeed him.

CHAPTER XXIII.

Duke Bogislaff XIII. accepts the government of the duchy, and

gives Sidonia at last the long-desired præbenda--Item, of her

arrival at the convent of Marienfliess.

BOOK III.

_FROM THE RECEPTION OF SIDONIA INTO THE CONVENT AT MARIENFLIESS

UP TILL HER EXECUTION, AUGUST 19TH, 1620._

CHAPTER I.

How the sub-prioress, Dorothea Stettin, visits Sidonia and extols

her virtue--Item, of Sidonia's quarrel with the dairy-woman, and

how she beats the sheriff himself, Eggert Sparling, with a

broom-stick.

CHAPTER II.

How Sidonia visits the abbess, Magdalena von Petersdorf, and

explains her wishes, but is diverted to other objects by a sight

of David Ludeck, the chaplain to the convent.

CHAPTER III.

Sidonia tries another way to catch the priest, but fails through a

mistake--Item, of her horrible spell, whereby she bewitched the

whole princely race of Pomerania, so that, to the grievous sorrow

of their fatherland, they remain barren even unto this day.

BOOK I.

FROM THE RECEPTION OF SIDONIA AT THE DUCAL COURT OF WOLGAST UNTIL

HER BANISHMENT THEREFROM.

SIDONIA THE SORCERESS

CHAPTER I.

_Of the education of Sidonia._

The illustrious and high-born prince and lord, Bogislaff,

fourteenth Duke of Pomerania, Prince of Cassuben, Wenden, and

Rugen, Count of Güzkow, Lord of the lands of Lauenburg and Butow,

and my gracious feudal seigneur, having commanded me, Dr. Theodore

Plönnies, formerly bailiff at the ducal court, to make search

throughout all the land for information respecting the world-famed

sorceress, Sidonia von Bork, and write down the same in a book, I

set out for Stargard, accompanied by a servant, early one Friday

after the _Visitationis Mariæ_, 1629; for, in my opinion, in

order to form a just judgment respecting the character of any one,

it is necessary to make one's self acquainted with the

circumstances of their early life; the future man lies enshrined

in the child, and the peculiar development of each individual

nature is the result entirely of education. Sidonia's history is a

remarkable proof of this. I visited first, therefore, the scenes

of her early years; but almost all who had known her were long

since in their graves, seeing that ninety years had passed since

the time of her birth. However, the old inn-keeper at Stargard,

Zabel Wiese, himself very far advanced in years (whom I can

recommend to all travellers--he lives in the Pelzerstrasse), told

me that the old bachelor, Claude Uckermann of Dalow, an aged man

of ninety-two years old, was the only person who could give me the

information I desired, as in his youth he had been one of the many

followers of Sidonia. His memory was certainly well nigh gone from

age, still all that had happened in the early period of his life

lay as fresh as the Lord's Prayer upon his tongue. Mine host also

related some important circumstances to me myself, which shall

appear in their proper place.

I accordingly proceeded to Dalow, a little town half a mile from

Stargard, and visited Claude Uckermann. I found him seated by the

chimney corner, his hair as white as snow. "What did I want? He

was too old to receive strangers; I must go on to his son Wedig's

house, and leave him in quiet," &c. &c. But when I said that I

brought him a greeting from his Highness, his manner changed, and

he pushed the seat over for me beside the fire, and began to chat

first about the fine pine-trees, from which he cut his

firewood--they were so full of resin; and how his son, a year

before, had found an iron pot in the turf moor under a tree, full

of bracelets and earrings, which his little grand-daughter now

wore.

When he had tired himself out, I communicated what his Highness

had so nobly commanded to be done, and prayed him to relate all he

knew and could remember of this detestable sorceress, Sidonia von

Bork. He sighed deeply, and then went on talking for about two

hours, giving me all his recollections just as they started to his

memory. I have arranged what he then related, in proper order. It

was to the following effect:--

Whenever his father, Philip Uckermann, attended the fair at

Stramehl, a town belonging to the Bork family, he was in the habit

of visiting Otto von Bork at his castle, who, being very rich,

gave free quarters to all the young noblemen of the vicinity, so

that from thirty to forty of them were generally assembled at his

castle while the fair lasted; but after some time his father

discontinued these visits, his conscience not permitting him

further intercourse. The reason was this. Otto von Bork, during

his residence in Poland, had joined the sect of the enthusiasts,

[Footnote: Probably the sect afterwards named Socinians; for we

find that Laelius Socinus taught in Poland, even before

Melancthon's death (1560).] and had lost his faith there, as a

young maiden might her honour. He made no secret of his new

opinions, but openly at Martinmas fair, 1560, told the young

nobles at dinner that Christ was but a man like other people, and

ignorance alone had elevated Him to a God; which notion had been

encouraged by the greed and avarice of the clergy. They should

therefore not credit what the hypocritical priests chattered to

them every Sunday, but believe only what reason and their five

senses told them was truth, and that, in fine, if he had his will,

he would send every priest to the devil.

All the young nobles remained silent but Claude Zastrow, a feudal

retainer of the Borks, who rose up (it was an evil moment to him)

and made answer: "Most powerful feudal lord, were the holy

apostles then filled with greed and covetousness, who were the

first to proclaim that Christ was God, and who left all for His

sake? Or the early Christians who, with one accord, sold their

possessions, and gave the price to the poor?" Claude had before

this displeased the knight, who now grew red with anger at the

insolence of his vassal in thus answering him, and replied: "If

they were not preachers for gain, they were at least stupid

fellows." Hereupon a great murmur arose in the hall, but the

aforesaid Zastrow is not silenced, and answered: "It is

surprising, then, that the twelve stupid apostles performed more

than twelve times twelve Greek or Roman philosophers. The knight

might rage until he was black in the face, and strike the table.

But he had better hold his tongue and use his understanding;

though, after all, the intellect of a man who believed nothing but

what he received through his five senses was not worth much; for

the brute beasts were his equals, inasmuch as they received no

evidence either but from the senses."

Then Otto sprang up raging, and asked him what he meant; to which

the other answered: "Nothing more than to express his opinion that

man differed from the brute, not through his understanding, but by

his faith, for that animals had evidently understanding, but no

trace of faith had ever yet been discovered in them." [Footnote:

This axiom is certainly opposed to modern ontology, which denies

all ideas to the brute creation, and explains each proof of their

intellectual activity by the unintelligible word "instinct." The

ancients held very different opinions, particularly the new

Platonists, one of whom (Porphyry, liber ii. _De

abstinentia_) treats largely of the intellect and language of

animals. Since Cartesius, however, who denied not only

understanding, but even feeling, to animals, and represented them

as mere animated machines (_De passionib. Pars i. Artic. iv. et

de Methodo,_ No. 5, page 29, &c.), these views upon the

psychology of animals produced the most mischievous results; for

they were carried out until if not feeling, at least intellect,

was denied to all animals more or less; and modern philosophy at

length arrived at denying intelligence even to God, in whom and by

whom, as formerly, man no longer attains to consciousness, but it

is by man and through man that God arrives to a conscious

intelligent existence. Some philosophers of our time, indeed, are

condescending enough to ascribe _Understanding_ to animals

and _Reason_ to man as the generic difference between the

two. But I cannot comprehend these new-fashioned distinctions; for

it seems to me absurd to split into the two portions of reason and

understanding one and the same spiritual power, according as the

object on which it acts is higher or lower; just as if we adopted

two names for the same hand that digs up the earth and directs the

telescope to heaven, or maintained that the latter was quite a

different hand from the former. No. There is but one understanding

for man and beasts, as but one common substance for their material

forms. The more perfect the form, so much the more perfect is the

intellect; and human and animal intellects are only dynamically

different in human and animal bodies.

And even if, among animals of the more perfect form, understanding

has been discovered, yet in man alone has been found the innate

feeling of connection with the supernatural, or _Faith_. If

this, as the generic sign of difference, be called _Reason_,

I have nothing to object, except that the word generally conveys a

different meaning. But _Faith_ is, in fact, the pure Reason,

and is found in all men, existing alike in the lowest

superstitions as well as in the highest natures.]

Otto's rage now knew no bounds, and he drew his dagger, roaring,

"What! thou insolent knave, dost thou dare to compare thy feudal

lord to a brute?" And before the other had time to draw his

poignard to defend himself, or the guests could in any way

interfere to prevent him, Otto stabbed him to the heart as he sat

there by the table. (It was a blessed death, I think, to die for

his Lord Christ.) And so he fell down upon the floor with

contorted features, and hands and feet quivering with agony. Every

one was struck dumb with horror at such a death; but the knight

laughed loudly, and cried, "Ha! thou base-born serf, I shall teach

thee how to liken thy feudal lord to a brute," and striding over

his quivering limbs, he spat upon his face.

Then the murmuring and whispering increased in the hall, and those

nearest the door rushed out and sprang upon their horses; and

finally all the guests, even old Uckermann, fled away, no one

venturing to take up the quarrel with Otto Bork. After that, he

fell into disrepute with the old nobility, for which he cared

little, seeing that his riches and magnificence always secured him

companions enough, who were willing to listen to his wisdom, and

were consoled by his wine.

And when I, Dr. Theodore Plönnies, inquired from the old bachelor

if his Serene Highness had not punished the noble for his shameful

crime, he replied that his wealth and powerful influence protected

him. At least it was whispered that justice had been blinded with

gold; and the matter was probably related to the prince in quite a

different manner from the truth; for I have heard that a few years

after, his Highness even visited this godless knight at his castle

in Stramehl.

As to Otto, no one observed any sign of repentance in him. On the

contrary, he seemed to glory in his crime, and the neighbouring

nobles related that he frequently brought in his little daughter

Sidonia, whom he adored for her beauty, to the assembled guests,

magnificently attired; and when she was bowing to the company, he

would say, "Who art thou, my little daughter?" Then she would

cease the salutations which she had learned from her mother, and

drawing herself up, proudly exclaim, "I am a noble maiden, dowered

with towns and castles!" Then he would ask, if the conversation

turned upon his enemies--and half the nobles were so--"Sidonia,

how does thy father treat his enemies?" Upon which the child would

straighten her finger, and running at her father, strike it into

his heart, saying, "_Thus_ he treats them." At which Otto

would laugh loudly, and tell her to show him how the knave looked

when he was dying. Then Sidonia would fall down, twist her face,

and writhe her little hands and feet in horrible contortions. Upon

which Otto would lift her up, and kiss her upon the mouth. But it

will be seen how the just God punished him for all this, and how

the words of the Scriptures were fulfilled: "Err not, God is not

mocked; for what a man soweth, that shall he also reap."

The parson of Stramehl, David Dilavius, related also to old

Uckermann another fact, which, though it hardly seems credible,

the bachelor reported thus to me:--

This Dilavius was a learned man whom Otto had selected as

instructor to his young daughter; "but only teach her," he said,

"to read and write, and the first article of the Ten Commandments.

The other Christian doctrines I can teach her myself; besides, I

do not wish the child to learn so many dogmas."

Dilavius, who was a worthy, matter-of-fact, good, simple

character, did as he was ordered, and gave himself no further

trouble until he came to ask the child to recite the first article

of the creed out of the catechism for him. There was nothing wrong

in that; but when he came to the second article, he crossed

himself, not because it concerned the Lord Christ, but her own

father, Otto von Bork, and ran somewhat thus:--

"And I believe in my earthly father, Otto von Bork, a

distinguished son of God, born of Anna von Kleist, who sitteth in

his castle at Stramehl, from whence he will come to help his

children and friends, but to slay his enemies and tread them in

the dust."

The third article was much in the same style, but he had partly

forgotten it, neither could he remember if Dilavius had called the

father to any account for his profanity, or taught the daughter

some better Christian doctrine. In fine, this was all the old

bachelor could tell me of Sidonia's education. Yes--he remembered

one anecdote more. Her father had asked her one day, when she was

about ten or twelve years old, "What kind of a husband she would

like?" and she replied, "One of equal birth." _Ille:_

[Footnote: In dialogue the author makes use of the Latin pronouns,

_Ille_, he; _Illa_, she, to denote the different

characters taking part in it; and sometimes _Hic_ and

_Hæc_, for the same purposes. _Summa_ he employs in the

sense of "to sum up," or "in short."] "Who is her equal in the

whole of Pomerania?" _Illa:_ "Only the Duke of Pomerania, or

the Count von Ebersburg." _Ille:_ "Right! therefore she must

never marry any other but one of these."

It happened soon after, old Philip Uckermann, his father, riding

one day through the fields near Stramehl, saw a country girl

seated by the roadside, weeping bitterly. "Why do you weep?" he

asked. "Has any one injured you?" "Sidonia has injured me," she

replied. "What could she have done? Come dry your tears, and tell

me." Whereupon the little girl related that Sidonia, who was then

about fourteen, had besought her to tell her what marriage was,

because her father was always talking to her about it. The girl

had told her to the best of her ability; but the young lady beat

her, and said it was not so, that long Dorothy had told her quite

differently about marriage, and there she went on tormenting her

for several days; but upon this evening Sidonia, with long

Dorothy, and some of the milkmaids of the neighbourhood, had taken

away one of the fine geese which the peasants had given her in

payment of her labour. They picked it alive, all except the head

and neck, then built up a large fire in a circle, and put the

goose and a vessel of water in the centre. So the fat dripped down

from the poor creature alive, and was fried in a pan as it fell,

just as the girls eat it on their bread for supper. And the goose,

having no means of escape, still went on drinking the water as the

fat dripped down, whilst they kept cooling its head and heart with

a sponge dipped in cold water, fastened to a stick, until at last

the goose fell down when quite roasted, though it still screamed,

and then Sidonia and her companions cut it up for their amusement,

living as it was, and ate it for their supper, in proof of which,

the girl showed him the bones and the remains of the fire, and the

drops of fat still lying on the grass.

Then she wept afresh, for Sidonia had promised to take away a

goose every day, and destroy it as she had done the first. So my

father consoled her by giving her a piece of gold, and said, "If

she does so again, run by night and cloud, and come to Dalow by

Stargard, where I will make thee keeper of my geese." But she

never came to him, and he never heard more of the maiden and her

geese.

So far old Uckermann related to me the first evening, promising to

tell me of many more strange doings upon the following morning,

which he would try to think over during the night.

CHAPTER II.

_Of the bear-hunt at Stramehl, and the strange things that

befell there._

The following morning, by seven o'clock, the old man summoned me

to him, and on entering I found him seated at breakfast by the

fire. He invited me to join him, and pushed a seat over for me

with his crutch, for walking was now difficult to him. He was very

friendly, and the eyes of the old man burned as clear as those of

a white dove. He had slept little during the night, for Sidonia's

form kept floating before his eyes, just as she had looked in the

days when he paid court to her. Alas! he had once loved her

deeply, like all the other young nobles who approached her, from

the time she was of an age to marry. In her youth she had been

beautiful; and old and young declared that for figure, eyes,

bosom, walk, and enchanting smile, there never had been seen her

equal in all Pomerania.

"Nothing shall be concealed from you," he said, "of all that

concerns my foolish infatuation, that you and your children may

learn how the all-wise God deals best with His servants when He

uses the rod and denies that for which they clamour as silly

children for a glittering knife." Here he folded his withered

hands, murmured a short prayer, and proceeded with his story.

"You must know that I was once a proud and stately youth, upon

whom a maiden's glance in no wise rested indifferently, trained in

all knightly exercise, and only two years older than Sidonia. It

happened in the September of 1566, that I was invited by Caspar

Roden to see his eel-nets, as my father intended laying down some

also at Krampehl [Footnote: A little river near Dalow] and along

the coast. When we returned home weary enough in the evening, a

letter arrived from Otto von Bork, inviting him the following day

to a bear-hunt; as he intended, in honour of the nuptials of his

eldest daughter Clara, to lay bears' heads and bears' paws before

his guests, which even in Pomerania would have been a rarity, and

desiring him to bring as many good huntsmen with him as he

pleased. So I accompanied Caspar Roden, who told me on the way

that Count Otto had at first looked very high for his daughter

Clara, and scorned many a good suitor, but that she was now

getting rather old, and ready, like a ripe burr, to hang on the

first that came by. Her bridegroom was Vidante von Meseritz, a

feudal vassal of her father's, upon whom, ten years before, she

would not have looked at from a window. Not that she was as proud

as her young sister Sidonia. However, their mother was to blame

for much of this; but she was dead now, poor lady, let her rest in

peace.

So in good time we reached the castle of Stramehl, where thirty

huntsmen were already assembled, all noblemen, and we joined them

in the grand state hall, where the morning meal was laid out.

Count Otto sat at the head of the table, like a prince of

Pomerania, upon a throne whereon his family arms were both carved

and embroidered. He wore a doublet of elk-skin, and a cap with a

heron's plume upon his head. He did not rise as we entered, but

called to us to be seated and join the feast, as the party must

move off soon. Costly wines were sent round; and I observed that

on each of the glasses the family arms were cut. They were also

painted upon the window of the great hall, and along the walls,

under the horns of all the different wild animals killed by Otto

in the chase--bucks, deers, harts, roes, stags, and elks--which

were arranged in fantastical groups.

After a little while his two daughters, Clara and Sidonia,

entered. They wore green hunting-dresses, trimmed with

beaver-skin, and each had a gold net thrown over her hair. They

bowed, and bid the knights welcome. But we all remained breathless

gazing upon Sidonia, as she lifted her beautiful eyes first on

one, and then on another, inviting us to eat and drink; and she

even filled a small wine-glass herself, and prayed us to pledge

her. As for me, unfortunate youth, from the moment I beheld her I

breathed no more through my lungs, but through my eyes alone, and,

springing up, gave her health publicly. A storm of loud, animated,

passionate voices soon responded to my words with loud vivas. The

guests then rose, for the ladies were impatient for the hunt, and

found the time hang heavily.

So we set off with all our implements and our dogs, and a hundred

beaters went before us. It happened that my host, Caspar Roden,

and I found an excellent sheltered position for a shot near a

quarry, and we had not long been there (the beaters had not even

yet begun their work) when I spied a large bear coming down to

drink at a small stream not twenty paces from me. I fired; but she

retired quickly behind an oak, and, growling fiercely, disappeared

amongst the bushes. Not long after, I heard the cries of women

almost close to us; and running as fast as possible in the

direction from whence they came, I perceived an old bear trying to

climb up to the platform where Clara and Sidonia stood. There was

a ruined chapel here--which, in the time of papacy, had contained

a holy image--and a scaffolding had been erected round it, adorned

with wreaths of evergreen and flowers, from which the ladies could

obtain an excellent view of the hunt, as it commanded a prospect

of almost the entire wood, and even part of the sea. Attached to

this scaffolding was a ladder, up which Bruin was anxiously trying

to ascend, in order to visit the young ladies, who were now

assailed by two dangers--the bear from below, and a swarm of bees

above, for myriads of these insects were tormenting them, trying

to settle upon their golden hair-nets; and the young ladies,

screaming as if the last day had come, were vainly trying to beat

them off with their girdles, or trample them under their feet. A

huntsman who stood near fired, indeed, at Bruin, but without

effect, and the bees assailing his hands and face at the same

time, he took to flight and hid himself, groaning, in the quarry.

In the meantime I had reached the chapel, and Sidonia stretched

forth her beautiful little hands, crying, along with her sister,

"Help! help! He will eat us. Will you not kill him?" But the bear,

as if already aware of my intention, began now to descend the

ladder. However, I stepped before him, and as he descended, I

ascended. Luckily for me, the interval between each step was very

small, to accommodate the ladies' little feet, so that when Bruin

tried to thrust his snout between them to get at me, he found it

rather difficult work to make it pass. I had my dagger ready; and

though the bees which he brought with him in his fur flew on my

hands, I heeded them not, but watching my opportunity, plunged it

deep into his side, so that he tumbled right down off the ladder;

and though he raised himself up once and growled horribly, yet in

a few seconds he lay dead before our eyes. How the ladies now

tripped down the ladder, not two or three, but four or five steps

at a time! and what thanks poured forth from their lips! I rushed

first to Sidonia, who laid her little head upon my breast, while I

endeavoured to remove the bees which had got entangled in her

hair-net. The other lady went to call the huntsman, who was hiding

in the quarry, and we were left alone. Heavens! how my heart

burned, more than my inflamed hands all stung by the bees, as she

asked, how could she repay my service. I prayed her for one kiss,

which she granted. She had escaped with but one sting from the

bees, who could not manage to get through her long, thick,

beautiful hair, and she advanced joyfully to meet her father and

the hunting-train, who had heard the cries of the ladies. When

Count Otto heard what had happened, and saw the dead bear, he

thanked me heartily, praying me to attend his daughter Clara's

wedding, which was to be celebrated next week at the castle, and

to remain as his guest until then. There was nothing in the world

I could have desired beyond this, and I gratefully accepted his

offer. Alas! I suffered for it after, as the cat from poisoned

dainties.

But to return to our hunt. No other bear was killed that day, but

plenty of other game, as harts, stags, roes, boars--more than

enough. And now we discovered what an old hunter had conjectured,

that the dead bear was the father, who had been alarmed by the

growls of his partner, at whom I had fired whilst he was

endeavouring to carry off the honey from a nest of wild bees in a

neighbouring tree. For looking around us, we saw, at the distance

of about twenty paces, a tall oak-tree, about which clouds of bees

were still flying, in which he had been following his occupation.

No one dared to approach it, to bring away the honeycombs which

still lay beneath, by reason of the bees, and, moreover, swarms of

ants, by which they were covered. At length Otto Bork ordered the

huntsman to sound the return; and after supper I obtained another

little kiss from Sidonia, which burned so like fire through my

veins that I could not sleep the whole night. I resolved to ask

her hand in marriage from her father.

Stupid youth as I was, I then believed that she looked upon me

with equal love; and although I knew all about the mode in which

she had been brought up, and many other things beside, which have

now slipped from my memory, yet I looked on them but as idle

stories, and was fully persuaded that Sidonia was sister to the

angels in beauty, goodness, and perfection. In a few days,

however, I had reason to change my opinion.

Next day the two young ladies were in the kitchen, overseeing the

cooking of the bear's head, and, as I passed by and looked in,

they began to titter, which I took for a good omen, and asked,

might I not be allowed to enter. They said, "Yes, I might come in,

and help them to cleave the head." So I entered, and they both

began to give me instructions, with much laughter and merry

jesting. First, the bear's head had to be burned with hot irons;

and when I said to Sidonia that thus she burned my heart, she

nearly died of laughter. Then I cut some flesh off the mouth,

broke the nose, and handed it all over to the maidens, who set it

on the fire with water, wine, and vinegar. As I now played the

part of kitchen-boy, they sent me to the castle garden for thyme,

sage, and rosemary, which I brought, and begged them for a taste

of the head; but they said it was not fit to eat yet--must be

cooled in brine first; so in place of it I asked one little kiss

from each of the maidens, which Sidonia granted, but her sister

refused. However, I was not in the least displeased at her

refusal, seeing it was only the little sister I cared for.

But judge of my rage and jealousy, that same day a cousin arrived

at the castle, and I observed that Sidonia allowed him to kiss her

every moment. She never even appeared to offer any resistance, but

looked over at me languishingly every time to see what I would

say. What could I say? I became pale with jealousy, but said

nothing. At last I rushed from the hall, mute with despair, when I

observed him finally draw her on his knee. I only heard the peal

of laughter that followed my exit, and I was just near leaving the

whole wedding-feast, and Stramehl for ever, when Sidonia called

after me from the castle gates to return. This so melted my heart,

that the tears came into my eyes, thinking that now indeed I had a

proof of her love. Then she took my hand, and said, "I ought not

to be so unkind. That was her manner with all the young nobles.

Why should she refuse a kiss when she was asked? Her little mouth

would grow neither larger nor smaller for it." But I stood still

and wept, and looked on the ground. "Why should I weep?" she

asked. Her cousin Clas had a bride of his own already, and only

took a little pastime with her, and so she must cure me now with

another little kiss.

I was now again a happy man, thinking she loved me; and the

heavens seemed so propitious, that I determined to ask her hand.

But I had not sufficient courage as yet, and resolved to wait

until after her sister's marriage, which was to take place next

day. What preparations were made for this event it would be

impossible adequately to describe. All the country round the

castle seemed like a royal camp. Six hundred horses were led into

the stables next day to be fed, for the Duke himself arrived with

a princely retinue. Then came all the feudal vassals to offer

homage for their fiefs to Lord Otto. But as the description is

well worth hearing, I shall defer it for another chapter.

CHAPTER III.

_How Otto von Bork received the homage of his son-in-law,

Vidante von Meseritz--And how the bride and bridegroom proceeded

afterwards to the chapel--Item, what strange things happened at

the wedding-feast._

Next morning the stir began in the castle before break of day, and

by ten o'clock all the nobles, with their wives and daughters, had

assembled in the great hall. Then the bride entered, wearing her

myrtle wreath, and Sidonia followed, glittering with diamonds and

other costly jewels. She wore a robe of crimson silk with a cape

of ermine, falling from her shoulders, and looked so beautiful

that I could have died for love, as she passed and greeted me with

her graceful laugh. But Otto Bork, the lord of the castle, was

sore displeased because his Serene Highness the Prince was late

coming, and the company had been waiting an hour for his presence.

A platform had been erected at the upper end of the hall covered

with bearskin; on this was placed a throne, beneath a canopy of

yellow velvet, and here Otto was seated dressed in a crimson

doublet, and wearing a hat half red and half black, from which

depended plumes of red and black feathers that hung down nearly to

his beard, which was as venerable as a Jew's. Every instant he

despatched messengers to the tower to see if the prince were at

hand, and as the time hung heavy, he began to discourse his

guests. "See how this turner's apprentice [Footnote: So this

prince was called from his love of turning and carving dolls.]

must have stopped on the road to carve a puppet. God keep us from

such dukes!" For the prince passed all his leisure hours in

turning and carving, particularly while travelling, and when the

carriage came to bad ground, where the horses had to move slowly,

he was delighted, and went on merrily with his work; but when the

horses galloped, he grew ill-tempered and threw down his tools.

At length the warder announced from the tower that the duke's six

carriages were in sight, and the knight spoke from his throne: "I

shall remain here, as befits me, but Clara and Sidonia, go ye

forth and receive his Highness; and when he has entered, the

kinsman [Footnote: This was the feudal term for the next relation

of a deceased vassal, upon whom it devolved to do homage for the

lands to the feudal lord.] in full armour shall ride into the hall

upon his war-horse, bearing the banner of his house in his hand,

and all my retainers shall follow on horses, each bearing his

banner also, and shall range themselves by the great window of the

hall; and let the windows be open, that the wind may play through

the banners and make the spectacle yet grander."

Then all rushed out to meet the Duke, and I, too, went, for truly

the courtyard presented a gorgeous sight--all decorated as it was,

and the pride and magnificence of Lord Otto were here fully

displayed; for from the upper storey of the castle floated the

banner of the Emperor, and just beneath it that of Lord Otto (two

crowned wolves with golden collars on a field or for the shield),

and the crest, a crowned red-deer springing. Beneath this banner,

but much inferior to it in size and execution, waved that of the

Dukes of Pomerania; and lowest of all, hung the banner of Otto's

feudal vassals--but they themselves were not visible. Neither did

the kinsman appear to receive and greet his Highness. Otto knew

well, it seems, that he could defy the Duke (however, I think if

my gracious Lord of Wolgast had been there, he would not have

suffered such insults, but would have taken Otto's banner and

flung it in the mud). [Footnote: Marginal note of Duke Bogislaff,

"And so would I."] Be this as it may, Duke Barnim never appeared

to notice anything except Otto's two daughters. He was a little

man with a long grey beard, and as he stepped slowly out of the

carriage held a little puppet by the arm, which he had been

carving to represent Adam. It was intended for a present to the

convent at Kobatz. His _superintendens generalis_, Fabianus

Timæus (a dignified-looking personage), accompanied him in the

carriage, for his Highness was going on the same day to attend the

diet at Treptow, and only meant to pay a passing visit here. But

Lord Otto concealed this fact, as it hurt his pride. The other

carriages contained the equerries and pages of his Highness, and

then followed the heavy waggons with the cooks, valets, and

stewards.

When the Prince entered the state hall, Lord Otto rose from his

throne and said: "Your Highness is welcome, and I trust will

pardon me for not having gone forth with my greetings; but those

of a couple of young damsels were probably more agreeable than the

compliments of an old knight like myself, who besides, as your

Grace perceives, is engaged here in the exercise of his duty. And

now, I pray your Highness to take this seat at my right hand."

Whereupon he pointed to a plain chair, not in the least raised

from the ground, and altogether as common a seat as there was to

be found in the hall; but his Highness sat down quietly (at which

every one wondered in silence) and took the little puppet in his

lap, only exclaiming in low German, "What the devil, Otto! you

make more of yourself, man, than I do;" to which the knight

replied, "Not more than is necessary."

"And now," continued the old man, "the ceremony of offering homage

commenced, which is as fresh in my memory as if all had happened

but yesterday, and so I shall describe it that you may know what

were the usages of our fathers, for the customs of chivalry are,

alas! fast passing away from amongst us.

When Otto Bork gave the sign with his hand, six trumpets sounded

without, whereupon the doors of the hall were thrown wide open as

far as they could go, and the kinsman Vidante von Meseritz entered

on a black charger, and dressed in complete armour, but without

his sword. He carried the banner of his house (a pale gules with

two foxes running), and riding straight up to Lord Otto, lowered

it before him. Otto then demanded, "Who art thou, and what is thy

request?" to which he answered, "Mighty feudal Lord, I am kinsman

of Dinnies von Meseritz, and pray you for the fief." "And who are

these on horseback who follow thee?" "They are the feudal vassals

of my Lord, even as my father was." And Otto said, "Ride up, my

men, and do as your fathers have done." Then Frederick Ubeske rode

up, lowered his banner (charged with a sun and peacock's tail)

before the knight, then passed on up to the great windows of the

hall, where he took his place and drew his sword, while the wind

played through the folds of his standard.

Next came Walter von Locksted--lowered his banner (bearing a

springing unicorn), rode up to the window, and drew his sword.

After him, Claud Drosedow, waving his black eagle upon a white and

red shield, rode up to the window and drew his sword; then Jacob

Pretz, on his white charger, bearing two spears transverse through

a fallen tree on his flag; and Dieterich Mallin, whose banner fell

in folds over his hand, so that the device was not visible; and

Lorenz Prechel, carrying a leopard gules upon a silver shield; and

Jacob Knut, with a golden becker upon an azure field, and three

plumes on the crest; and Tesmar von Kettler, whose spurs caught in

the robe of a young maiden as he passed, and merry laughter

resounded through the hall, many saying it was a good omen, which,

indeed, was the truth, for that evening they were betrothed; and

finally came Johann Zastrow, bearing two buffaloes' horns on his

banner, and a green five-leaved bush, rode up to the window after

the others, and drew his sword.

There stood the nine, like the muses at the nuptials of Peleus,

[Footnote: The nine muses were present at the marriage of Peleus

and Thetis.--_See Pindar, pyth._. 3, 160] and the wind played

through their banners. Then Lord Otto spoke--

"True, these are my leal vassals. And now, kinsman of Meseritz,

dismount and pay homage, as did thy father, ere thou canst ride up

and join them." So the young man dismounted, threw the reins of

his horse to a squire, and ascended the platform. Then Otto,

holding up a sword, spoke again--

"Behold, kinsman, this is the sword of thy father; touch it with

me, and pronounce the feudal oath." Here all the vassals rode up

from the window, and held their swords crosswise over the

kinsman's head, while he spake thus--

"I, Vidante von Meseritz, declare, vow, and swear to the most

powerful, noble, and brave Otto von Bork, lord of the lands and

castles of Labes, Pansin, Stramehl, Regenwalde, and others, and my

most powerful feudal lord, and to his lawful heirs, a right loyal

fealty, to serve him with all duty and obedience, to warn him of

all evil, and defend him from all injury, to the best of my

ability and power."

Then he kissed the knight's hand, who girded his father's sword on

him, and said--

"Thus I acknowledge thee for my vassal, as my father did thy

father."

Then turning to his attendants he cried, "Bring hither the camp

furniture." Hereupon the circle of spectators parted in two, and

the pages led up, first, Vidante's horse, upon which he sprung;

then others followed, bearing rich garments and his father's

signet, and laid them down before him, saying, "Kinsman, the

garments and the seal of thy father." A third and a fourth bore a

large couch with a white coverlet, set it down before him, and

said, "Kinsman, a couch for thee and thy wife." Then came a great

crowd, bearing plates and dishes, and napkins, and table-covers,

besides eleven tin cans, a fish-kettle, and a pair of iron

pot-hooks; in short, a complete camp furniture; all of which they

set down before the young man, and then disappeared.

During this entire time no one noticed his Highness the Duke,

though he was indeed the feudal head of all. Even when the

trumpets sounded again, and the vassals passed out in procession,

they lowered their standards only before Otto, as if no princely

personage were present. But I think this proud Lord Otto must have

commanded them so to do, for such an omission or breach of respect

was never before seen in Pomerania. Even his Highness seemed, at

last, to feel displeasure, for he drew forth his knife, and began

to cut away at the little wooden Adam, without taking further

notice of the ceremony.

At length when the vassals had departed, and many of the guests

also, who wished to follow them, had left the hall, the Duke

looked up with his little glittering eyes, scratched the back of

his head with the knife, and asked his Chancellor, Jacob Kleist,

who had evidently been long raging with anger, "Jacob, what dost

thou think of this _spectaculo?_" who replied, "Gracious

lord, I esteem it a silly thing for an inferior to play the part

of a prince, or for a prince to be compelled to play the part of

an inferior." Such a speech offended Otto mightily, who drew

himself up and retorted scornfully, "Particularly a poor inferior

who, as you see, is obliged to draw the plough by turns with his

serfs." Hereupon the Chancellor would have flung back the scorn,

but his Highness motioned with the hand that he should keep

silence, saying, "Remember, good Jacob, that we are here as

guests; however, order the carriages, for I think it is time that

we proceed on our journey."

When Otto heard this, he was confounded, and, descending from his

throne, uttered so many flattering things, that his Highness at

length was prevailed upon to remain (I would not have consented,

to save my soul, had I been the Prince--no, not even if I had to

pass the night with the bears and wolves in the forest before I

could reach Treptow); so the good old Prince followed him into

another hall, where breakfast was prepared, and all the lords and

ladies stood there in glittering groups round the table,

particularly admiring the bear's head, which seemed to please his

Highness mightily also. Then each one drained a large goblet of

wine, and even the ladies sipped from their little wine-glasses,

to drink themselves into good spirits for the dance.

Otto now related all about the hunt, and presented me to his

Grace, who gave me his hand to kiss, saying, "Well done, young

man--I like this bravery. Were it not for you, in place of a

wedding, and a bear's head in the dish, Lord Otto might have had a

funeral and two human heads in a coffin." His Grace then pledged

me in a silver becker of wine; and afterwards the bride and

bridegroom, who had sat till then kissing and making love in a

corner; but they now came forward and kissed the hand of the Duke

with much respect. The bridegroom had on a crimson doublet, which

became him well; but his father's jack-boots, which he wore

according to custom, were much too wide, and shook about his legs.

The bride was arrayed in a scarlet velvet robe, and bodice furred

with ermine. Sidonia carried a little balsam flask, depending from

a gold chain which she wore round her neck. (She soon needed the

balsam, for that day she suffered a foretaste of the fate which

was to be the punishment for her after evil deeds.) And now, as we

set forward to the church, a group of noble maidens distributed

wreaths to the guests; but the bride presented one to the Duke,

and Sidonia (that her hand might have been withered) handed one to

me, poor love-stricken youth.

It was the custom then, as now, in Pomerania, for all the

bride-maidens, crowned with beautiful wreaths, to precede the

bride and bridegroom to church. The crowd of lords, and ladies,

and young knights pouring out of the castle gates, in order to see

them, separated Sidonia from this group, and she was left alone

weeping. Now the whole population of the little town were running

from every street leading to the church; and it happened that a

courser [Footnote: A man who courses greyhounds.] of Otto Bork's

came right against Sidonia with such violence, that, with a blow

of his head, he knocked her down into the puddle (she was to lie

there really in after-life). Her little balsam-flask was of no use

here. She had to go back, dripping, to the castle, and appeared no

more at her sister's nuptials, but consoled herself, however, by

listening to the bellowing of the huntsman, whom they were beating

black and blue by her orders beneath her window.

I would willingly have returned with her, but was ashamed so to

do, and therefore followed the others to church. All the common

people that crowded the streets were allowed to enter. Then the

bridegroom and his party, of whom the Duke was chief, advanced up

to the right of the altar, and the bride and her party, of which

Fabianus Timæus was the most distinguished, arrayed themselves on

the left.

I had now an opportunity of hearing the learned and excellent

parson Dilavius myself; for he represented his patron (who was not

present at the feast, but apologised for his absence by alleging

that he must remain at the castle to look after the preparations)

almost as an angel, and the young ladies, especially the bride,

came in for even a larger share of his flattery; but he was so

modest before these illustrious personages, that I observed,

whenever he looked up from the book, he had one eye upon the Duke

and another on Fabianus.

When we returned to the castle, Sidonia met the bridemaidens again

with joyous smiles. She now wore a white silk robe, laced with

gold, and dancing-slippers with white silk hose. The diamonds

still remained on her head, neck, and arms. She looked beautiful

thus; and I could not withdraw my eyes from her. We all now

entered the bridechamber, as the custom is, and there stood an

immense bridal couch, with coverlet and draperies as white as

snow; and all the bridemaids and the guests threw their wreaths

upon it. Then the Prince, taking the bridegroom by the hand, led

him up to it, and repeated an old German rhyme concerning the

duties of the holy state upon which he had entered.

When his Highness ceased, Fabianus took the bride by the hand, who

blushed as red as a rose, and led her up in the same manner to the

nuptial couch, where he uttered a long admonition on her duties to

her husband, at which all wept, but particularly the

bride-maidens. After this we proceeded to the state hall, where

Otto was seated on his throne waiting to receive them, and when

his children had kissed his hand the dancing commenced. Otto

invited the Prince to sit near him, and all the young knights and

maidens who intended to dance ranged themselves on costly carpets

that were laid upon the floor all round by the walls. The trumpets

and violins now struck up, and a band was stationed at each end of

the hall, so that while the dancers were at the top one played,

and when at the lower end the other.

I hastened to Sidonia, as she reclined upon the carpet, and

bending low before her, said, "Beautiful maiden! will you not

dance?" [Footnote: It will interest my fair readers to know that

this was, word for word, the established form employed in those

days for an invitation to dance.] Upon which she smilingly gave me

her little hand, and I raised her up, and led her away.

I have said that I was a proficient in all knightly exercises, so

that every one approached to see us dance. When Sidonia was tired

I led her back, and threw myself beside her on the carpet. But in

a little while three other young nobles came and seated themselves

around her, and began to jest, and toy, and pay court to her. One

played with her left hand and her rings, another with the gold net

of her hair, while I held her right hand and pressed it. She

coquettishly repelled them all--sometimes with her feet, sometimes

with her hands. And when Hans von Damitz extolled her hair, she

gave him such a blow on the nose with her head that it began to

bleed, and he was obliged to withdraw. Still one could see that

all these blows, right and left, were not meant in earnest. This

continued for some time until an Italian dance began, which she

declined to join, and as I was left alone with her upon the

carpet, "Now," thought I, "there can be no better time to decide

my fate;" for she had pressed my hand frequently, both in the

dance and since I had lain reclining beside her.

"Beautiful Sidonia!" I said, "you know not how you have wounded my

heart. I can neither eat nor sleep since I beheld you, and those

five little kisses which you gave me burn through my frame like

arrows."

To which she answered, laughing, "It was your pastime, youth. It

was your own wish to take those little kisses."

"Ah, yes!" I said, "it was my will; but give me more now and make

me well."

"What!" she exclaimed, "you desire more kisses? Then will your

pain become greater, if, as you say, with every kiss an arrow

enters your heart, so at last they would cause your death."

"Ah, yes!" I answered, "unless you take pity on me, and promise to

become my wife, they will indeed cause my death." As I said this,

she sprang up, tore her hand away from me, and cried with mocking

laughter, "What does the knave mean? Ha! ha! the poor, miserable

varlet!"

I remained some moments stupefied with rage, then sprung to my

feet without another word, left the hall, took my steed from the

stable, and turned my back on the castle for ever. You may imagine

how her ingratitude added to the bitterness of my feelings, when I

considered that it was to me she owed her life. She afterwards

offered herself to me for a wife, but she was then dishonoured,

and I spat out at her in disgust. I never beheld her again till

she was carried past my door to the scaffold.

All this the old man related with many sighs; but his

after-meeting with her shall be related more _in extenso_ in

its proper place. I shall now set down what further he

communicated about the wedding-feast.

You may imagine, he said, that I was curious to know all that

happened after I left the castle, and my friend, Bogislaff von

Suckow of Pegelow, told me as follows.

After my departure, the young lords grew still more free and

daring in their manner to Sidonia, so that when not dancing she

had sufficient exercise in keeping them off with her hands and

feet, until my friend Bogislaff attracted her whole attention by

telling her that he had just returned from Wolgast, where the

ducal widow was much comforted by the presence of her son, Prince

Ernest Ludovick, whom she had not seen since he went to the

university. He was the handsomest youth in all Pomerania, and

played the lute so divinely that at court he was compared to the

god Apollo.

Sidonia upon this fell into deep thought. In the meanwhile, it was

evident that his Highness old Duke Barnim was greatly struck by

her beauty, and wished to get near her upon the carpet; for his

Grace was well known to be a great follower of the sex, and many

stories are whispered about a harem of young girls he kept at St.

Mary's--but these things are allowable in persons of his rank.

However, Fabianus Timæus, who sat by him, wished to prevent him

approaching Sidonia, and made signs, and nudged him with his

elbow; and finally they put their heads together and had a long

argument.

At last the Prince started up, and stepping to Otto, asked him,

Would he not dance? "Yes," he replied, "if your Grace will dance

likewise." "Good," said the Prince, "that can be soon arranged,"

and therewith he solicited Sidonia's hand. At this Fabianus was so

scandalised that he left the hall, and appeared no more until

supper. After the dance, his Highness advanced to Otto, who was

reseated on his throne, and said, "Why, Otto, you have a beautiful

daughter in Sidonia. She must come to my court, and when she

appears amongst the other ladies, I swear she will make a better

fortune than by staying shut up here in your old castle."

On which Otto replied, sarcastically smiling, "Ay, my gracious

Prince, she would be a dainty morsel for your Highness, no doubt;

but there is no lack of noble visitors at my castle, I am proud to

say." Jacob Kleist, the Chancellor, was now so humbled at the

Duke's behaviour that he, too, left the hall and followed

Fabianus. Even the Duke changed colour; but before he had time to

speak, Sidonia sprang forward, and having heard the whole

conversation, entreated her father to accept the Duke's offer, and

allow her either to visit the court at Wolgast or at Old Stettin.

What was she to do here? When the wedding-feast was over, no one

would come to the castle but huntsmen and such like.

So Otto at last consented that she might visit Wolgast, but on no

account the court at Stettin.

Then the young Sidonia began to coax and caress the old Duke,

stroking his long beard, which reached to his girdle, with her

little white hands, and prayed that he would place her with the

princely Lady of Wolgast, for she longed to go there. People said

that it was such a beautiful place, and the sea was not far off,

which she had never been at in all her life. And so the Duke was

pleased with her caresses, and promised that he would request his

dear cousin, the ducal widow of Wolgast, to receive her as one of

her maids of honour. Sidonia then further entreated that there

might be no delay, and he answered that he would send a note to

his cousin from the Diet at Treptow, by the Grand Chamberlain of

Wolgast, Ulrich von Schwerin, and that she would not have to wait

long. But she must go by Old Stettin, and stop at his palace for a

while, and then he would bring her on himself to Wolgast, if he

had time to spare.

While Sidonia clapped her hands and danced about for joy, Otto

looked grave, and said, "But, gracious Lord, the nearest way to

Wolgast is by Cammin. Sidonia must make a circuit if she goes by

Old Stettin."

The conversation was now interrupted by the lacqueys, who came to

announce that dinner was served.

Otto requested the Duke to take a place beside him at table, and

treated him with somewhat more distinction than he had done in the

morning; but a hot dispute soon arose, and this was the cause. As

Otto drank deep in the wine-cup, he grew more reckless and daring,

and began to display his heretical doctrines as openly as he had

hitherto exhibited his pomp and magnificence, so that every one

might learn that pride and ungodliness are twin brothers. May God

keep us from both!

And one of the guests having said, in confirmation of some fact,

"The Lord Jesus knows I speak the truth!" the godless knight

laughed scornfully, exclaiming, "The Lord Jesus knows as little

about the matter as my old grandfather, lying there in his vault,

of our wedding-feast to-day."

There was a dead silence instantly, and the Prince, who had just

lifted up some of the bear's paw to his lips, with mustard sauce

and pastry all round it, dropped it again upon his plate, and

opened his eyes as wide as they could go; then, hastily wiping his

mouth with the salvet, exclaimed in low German, "What the devil,

Otto! art thou a freethinker?" who replied, "A true nobleman may,

in all things, be a freethinker, and neither do all that a prince

commands nor believe all that a pope teaches." To which the Duke

answered, "What concerns me I pardon, for I do not believe that

you will ever forget your duty to your Prince. The times are gone

by when a noble would openly offer violence to his sovereign; but

for what concerns the honour of our Lord Christ, I must leave you

in the hands of Fabianus to receive proper chastisement."

Now Fabianus, seeing that all eyes were fixed on him, grew red and

cleared his throat, and set himself in a position to argue the

point with Lord Otto, beginning--"So you believe that Christ the

Lord remained in the grave, and is not living and reigning for all

eternity?"

_Ille_.--"Yes; that is my opinion."

_Hic_.--"What do you believe, then? or do you believe in

anything?"

_Ille_.--"Yes; I believe firmly in an all-powerful and

omniscient God."

_Hic_.--"How do you know He exists?"

_Ille_.--"Because my reason tells me so."

_Hic_.--"Your reason does not tell you so, good sir. It

merely tells you that something supermundane exists, but cannot

tell you whether it be one God or two Gods, or a hundred Gods, or

of what nature are these Gods--whether spirits, or stars, or

trees, or animals, or, in fine, any object you can name, for

paganism has imagined a Deity in everything, which proves what I

assert. You only believe in _one_ God, because you sucked in

the doctrine with your mother's milk." [Footnote: The history of

all philosophy shows that this is psychologically true. Even

Lucian satirises the philosophers of his age who see God or Gods

in numbers, dogs, geese, trees, and other things. But monotheistic

Christianity has preserved us for nearly 2000 years from these

aberrations of philosophy. However, as the authority of

Christianity declined, the pagan tendency again became visible;

until at length, in the Hegelian school, we have fallen back

helplessly into the same pantheism which we left 2000 years ago.

In short, what Kant asserts is perfectly true: that the existence

of God cannot be proved from reason. For the highest objects of

all cognition--God, Freedom, and Immortality--can as little be

evolved from the new philosophy as beauty from the disgusting

process of decomposition. And yet more impossible is it to imagine

that this feeble Hegelian pantheism should ever become the crown

and summit of all human thought, and final resting-place for all

human minds. Reason, whether from an indwelling instinct, or from

an innate causality-law, may assert that something supermundane

exists, but can know nothing more and nothing further. So we see

the absurdity of chattering in our journals and periodicals of the

progress of reason. The advance has been only _formal_, not

_essential_. The formal advance has been in printing,

railroads, and such like, in which direction we may easily suppose

progression will yet further continue. But there has been no

essential advance whatever. We know as little now of our own

being, of the being of God, or even of that of the smallest

infusoria, as in the days of Thales and Anaximander. In short,

when life begins, begins also our feebleness; "Therefore," says

Paul, "we walk by faith, not by sight." Yet these would-be

philosophers of our day will only walk by sight, not by faith,

although they cannot see into anything--not even into themselves.]

_Ille_.--"How did it happen, then, that Abraham arrived at

the knowledge of the _one_ God, and called on the name of the

Lord?"

_Hic_.--"Do you compare yourself with Abraham? Have you ever

studied Hebrew?"

_Ille_.--"A little. In my youth I read through the book of

Genesis."

_Hic_.--"Good! then you know that the Hebrew word for

_name_ is _Shem_?"

_Ille_.-"Yes; I know that."

_Hic_.--"Then you know that from the time of Enos the

_name_ [Footnote: In order to understand the argument, the

reader must remember that the _name_ here is taken in the

sense of the Greek logos, and is considered as referring

especially to Christ.] was preached (Genesis iv. 26), showing that

the pure doctrine was known from the beginning. This doctrine was

darkened and obscured by wise people like you, so that it was

almost lost at the time of Abraham, who again preached the

_name_ of the Lord to unbelievers."

_Ille_.--"What did this primitive doctrine contain?"

_Hic_.--"Undoubtedly not only a testimony of the one living

God of heaven and earth, but also clearly of Christ the Messiah,

as He who was promised to our fallen parents in paradise (Genesis

iii. 15)."

_Ille_.--"Can you prove that Abraham had the witness of

Christ?"

_Hic_.--"Yes; from Christ's own words (John viii.

56):--'Abraham, your father, rejoiced to see My day, and he saw

it, and was glad.' Item: Moses and all the Prophets have witnessed

of Him, of whom you say that He lies dead in the grave."

_Ille_.--"Oh, that is just what the priests say."

_Hic_.--"And Christ Himself, Luke xxvi. 25 and 27. Do you not

see, young man, that you mock the Prince of Life, whom God, that

cannot lie, promised before the world began--Titus i. 2--ay, even

more than you mocked your temporal Prince this day? Poor sinner,

what does it help you to believe in one God?"

"Even the devils believe and tremble," added Jacob Kleist the

Chancellor. "No, there is no other name given under heaven by

which you can be saved; and will you be more wise than Abraham,

and the Prophets, and the Apostles, and all holy Christian

Churches up to this day? Shame on you, and remember what St. Paul

says: 'Thinking themselves wise, they became fools.' And in 1st

Cor. xv. 17: 'If Christ be not risen, than is your faith vain, and

our preaching also vain. Ye are yet in your sins, and they who

sleep in Christ are lost.'" [Footnote: This proof of Christ's

divinity from the Old Testament was considered of the highest

importance in the time of the Apostles; but Schleiermacher, in his

strange system, which may be called a mystic Rationalism,

endeavours to shake the authority of the Old Testament in a most

unpardonable and incomprehensible manner. This appears to me as if

a man were to tear down a building from the sure foundation on

which it had rested for 1000 years, and imagine it could rest in

true stability only on the mere breath of his words.]

So Otto was silenced and coughed, for he had nothing to answer,

and all the guests laughed; but, fortunately, just then the

offering-plate was handed round, and the Duke laid down two

ducats, at which Otto smiled scornfully, and flung in seven

rix-dollars, but laughed outright when Fabianus put down only four

groschen.

This seemed to affront his Highness, for he whispered to his

Chancellor to order the carriages, and rose up from table with his

attendants. Then, offering his hand to Otto, said, "Take care,

Otto, or the devil will have you one day in hell, like the rich

man in Scripture." To which Otto replied, bowing low, "Gracious

Lord, I hope at least to meet good company there. Farewell, and

pardon me for not attending you to the castle gates, but I may not

leave my guests."

Then all the nobles rose up, and the young knights accompanied his

Highness, as did also Sidonia, who now further entreated his Grace

to remove her from her father's castle, since he saw himself how

lightly God's Word was held there. Fabianus was infinitely pleased

to hear her speak in this manner, and promised to use all his

influence towards having her removed from this Egypt.

Here ended all that old Uckermann could relate of Sidonia's youth;

so I determined to ride on to Stramehl, and learn there further

particulars if possible.

Accordingly, next day I took leave of the good old man, praying

God to give him a peaceful death, and arrived at Stramehl with my

servant. Here, however, I could obtain no information; for even

the Bork family pretended to know nothing, just as if they never

had heard of Sidonia (they were ashamed, I think, to acknowledge

her), and the townspeople who had known her were all dead. The

girl, indeed, was still living whose goose Sidonia had killed, but

she was now an old woman in second childhood, and fancied that I

was myself Sidonia, who had come to take away another goose from

her. So I rode on to Freienwald, where I heard much that shall

appear in its proper place; then to Old Stettin; and, after

waiting three days for a fair wind, set sail for Wolgast,

expecting to obtain much information there.

CHAPTER IV.

_How Sidonia came to the court at Wolgast, and of what further

happened to her there._

In Wolgast I met with many persons whose fathers had known

Sidonia, and what they related to me concerning her I have summed

up into connection for your Highness as follows.

When Duke Barnim reached the Diet at Treptow, he immediately made

known Sidonia's request to the Grand Chamberlain of Wolgast,

Ulrich von Schwerin, who was also guardian to the five young

princes. But he grumbled, and said--"The ducal widow had maids of

honour enough to dam up the river with if she chose; and he wished

for no more pet doves to be brought to court, particularly not

Sidonia; for he knew her father was ambitious, and longed to be

called 'your Grace.'"

Even Fabianus could not prevail in Sidonia's favour. So the Duke

and he returned home to Stettin; but scarcely had they arrived

there, when a letter came from the ducal widow of Wolgast, saying,

that on no account would she receive Sidonia at her court. The

Duke might therefore keep her at his own if he chose.

So the Duke took no further trouble. But Sidonia was not so easily

satisfied; and taking the matter in her own hands she left her

father's castle without waiting his permission, and set off for

Stettin.

On arriving, she prayed the Duke to bring her to Wolgast without

delay, as she knew there was an honourable, noble lady there who

would watch over her, as indeed she felt would be necessary at a

court. And Fabianus supported her petition; for he was much

edified with her expressed desire to crucify the flesh, with the

affections and lusts.

Ah! could he have known her!

So the kind-hearted Duke embarked with her immediately, without

telling any one; and having a fair wind, sailed up directly to the

little water-gate, and anchored close beneath the Castle of

Wolgast.

Here they landed; the Duke having Sidonia under one arm, and a

little wooden puppet under the other. It was an Eve, for whom

Sidonia had served as the model; and truly she was an Eve in sin,

and brought as much evil upon the land of Pomerania as our first

mother upon the whole world. Sidonia was enveloped in a black

mantle, and wore a hood lined with fur covering her face. The Duke

also had on a large wrapping cloak, and a cap of yellow leather

upon his head.

So they entered the private gate, and on through the first and

second courts of the castle, without her Grace hearing a word of

their arrival. And they proceeded on through the gallery, until

they reached the private apartments of the princess, from whence

resounded a psalm which her Grace was singing with her ladies

while they spun, and which psalm was played by a little musical

box placed within the Duchess's own spinning-wheel. Duke Barnim

had made it himself for her Grace, and it was right pleasant to

hear.

After listening some time, the Duke knocked, and a maid of honour

opened the door. When they entered, her Grace was so confounded

that she dropped her thread and exclaimed, "Dear uncle! is this

maiden, then, Sidonia?" examining her from head to foot while she

spoke. The Duke excused himself by saying that he had promised her

father to bring her here; but her Grace cut short his apologies

with "Dear uncle, Dr. Martin Luther told me on my wedding-day that

he never allowed himself to be interrupted at his prayers, because

it betokened the presence of something evil. And you have now

broken in on our devotions; therefore sit down with the maiden and

join our psalm, if you know it." Then her Grace took up the reel

again, and having set the clock-work going with her foot, struck

up the psalm once more, in a clear, loud voice, joined by all her

ladies. But Sidonia sat still, and kept her eyes upon the ground.

When they had ended, her Grace, having first crossed herself,

advanced to Sidonia, and said, "Since you arrived at my court, you

may remain; but take care that you never lift your eyes upon the

young men. Such wantons are hateful to my sight; for, as the

Scripture says, 'A fair woman without discretion is like a circlet

of gold upon a swine's head.'"

Sidonia changed colour at this; but the Duke, who held quite a

different opinion about such women, entreated her Grace not to be

always so gloomy and melancholy--that it was time now for her to

forget her late spouse, and think of gayer subjects. To which she

answered, "Dear uncle, I cannot forget my Philip, particularly as

my fate was foreshadowed at my bridal by a most ominous

occurrence."

Now, the Duke had heard this story of the bridal a hundred times;

yet to please her he asked, "And what was it, dear cousin?"

"Listen," she replied. "When Dr. Martin Luther exchanged our

rings, mine fell from his hand to the ground; at which he was

evidently troubled, and taking it up, he blew on it; then turning

round, exclaimed--'Away with thee, Satan! away with thee, Satan!

Meddle not in this matter!' And so my dear lord was taken from me

in his forty-fifth year, and I was left a desolate widow." Here

she sobbed and put her kerchief to her eyes.

"But, cousin," said the Duke, "remember you have a great blessing

from God in your five fine sons. And that reminds me--where are

they all now?"

This restored her Grace, and she began to discourse of her

children, telling how handsome was the young Prince Ernest, and

that he and the little Casimir were only with her now.

Here Sidonia, as the other ladies remarked, moved restlessly on

her chair, and her eyes flashed like torches, so that it was

evident some plan had struck her, for she was strengthening day by

day in wickedness.

"Ay, cousin," cried the Duke, "it is no wonder a handsome mother

should have handsome sons. And now what think you of giving us a

jolly wedding? It is time for you to think of a second husband,

methinks, after having wept ten years for your Philip. The best

doctor, they say, for a young widow, is a handsome lover. What

think you of myself, for instance?" And he pulled off his leather

cap, and put his white head and beard up close to her Grace.

Now, though her Grace could not help laughing at his position and

words, yet she grew as sour as vinegar again immediately; for all

the ladies tittered, and, as to Sidonia, she laughed outright.

"Fie! uncle," said her Grace, "a truce to such folly; do you not

know what St. Paul says--'Let the widows abide even as I'?"

"Ay, true, dear cousin; but, then, does he not say, too, 'I will

that the younger widows marry'?"

"Ah, but, dear uncle, I am no longer young."

"Why, you are as young and active as a girl; and I engage, cousin,

if any stranger came in here to look for the widow, he would find

it difficult to make her out amongst the young maidens; don't you

think so, Sidonia?"

"Ah, yes," she replied; "I never imagined her Grace was so young.

She is as blooming as a rose."

This appeared to please the Princess, for she smiled slightly and

then sighed; but gave his Grace a smart slap when he attempted to

seize her hand and kiss it, saying--"Now, uncle, I told you to

leave off this foolery."

At this moment the band outside struck up Duke Bogislaff's

march--the same that was played before him in Jerusalem when he

ascended the Via Dolorosa up to Golgotha; for it was the custom

here to play this march half-an-hour before dinner, in order to

gather all the household, knights, squires, pages, and even grooms

and peasants, to the castle, where they all received

entertainment. And ten rooms were laid with dinner, and all stood

open, so that any one might enter under the permission of the

Court Marshal. All this I must notice here, because Sidonia

afterwards caused much scandal by these means. The music now

rejoiced her greatly, and she began to move her little feet, not

in a pilgrim, but in a waltz measure, and to beat time with them,

as one could easily perceive by the motion underneath her mantle.

The Grand Chamberlain, Ulrich von Schwerin, now entered, and

having looked at Sidonia with much surprise, advanced to kiss the

hand of the Duke and bid him welcome to Wolgast. Then, turning to

her Grace, he inquired if the twelve pages should wait at table to

do honour to the Duke of Stettin. But the Duke forbade them,

saying he wished to dine in private for this day with the Duchess

and her two sons; the Grand Chamberlain, too, he hoped would be

present, and Sidonia might have a seat at the ducal table, as she

was of noble blood; besides, he had taken her likeness as Eve, and

the first of women ought to sit at the first table. Hereupon the

Duke drew forth the puppet, and called to Ulrich--"Here! you have

seen my Adam in Treptow; what think you now of Eve? Look, dear

cousin, is she not the image of Sidonia?"

At this speech both looked very grave. Ulrich said nothing; but

her Grace replied, "You will make the girl vain, dear uncle." And

Ulrich added, "Yes, and the image has such an expression, that if

the real Eve looked so, I think she would have left her husband in

the lurch and run with the devil himself to the devil."

While the last verse of the march was playing--"To Zion comes

Pomerania's Prince"--they proceeded to dinner--the Duke and the

Princes leading, while from every door along the corridor the

young knights and pages peeped out to get a sight of Sidonia, who,

having thrown off her mantle, swept by them in a robe of crimson

velvet laced with gold.

When they entered the dining-hall, Prince Ernest was leaning

against one of the pillars wearing a black Spanish mantle,

fastened with chains of gold. He stepped forward to greet the

Duke, and inquire after his health.

The Duke was well pleased to see him, and tapped him on the cheek,

exclaiming--

"By my faith, cousin, I have not heard too much of you. What a

fine youth you have grown up since you left the university."

But how Sidonia's eyes sparkled when (for his misfortune) she

found herself seated next him at table. The Duchess now called

upon Sidonia to say the "gratias;" but she blundered and

stammered, which many imputed to modesty, so that Prince Ernest

had to repeat it in her stead. This seemed to give him courage;

for when the others began to talk around the table, he ventured to

bid her welcome to his mother's court.

When they rose from table, Sidonia was again commanded to say

grace; but being unable, the Prince came to her relief and

repeated the words for her. And now the evil spirit without doubt

put it into the Duke's head, who had drunk rather freely, to say

to her Grace--

"Dear cousin, I have introduced the Italian fashion at my court,

which is, that every knight kisses the lady next him on rising

from dinner--let us do the same here." And herewith he first

kissed her Grace and then Sidonia. Ulrich von Schwerin looked

grave at this and shook his head, particularly when the Duke

encouraged Prince Ernest to follow his example; but the poor youth

looked quite ashamed, and cast down his eyes. However, when he

raised them again Sidonia's were fixed on him, and she murmured,

"Will you not learn?" with such a glance accompanying the words,

that he could no longer resist to touch her lips. So there was

great laughing in the hall; and the Duke then, taking his puppet

under one arm and Sidonia under the other, descended with her to

the castle gardens, complaining that he never got a good laugh in

this gloomy house, let him do what he would.

And the next day he departed, though the Prince sent his equerry

to know would his Grace desire to hunt that day; or, if he

preferred fishing, there were some excellent carp within the

domain. But the Duke replied, that he would neither ride nor fish,

but sail away at ten of the clock, if the wind were favourable.

So many feared that his Grace was annoyed; and therefore the

Duchess and Prince Ernest, along with the Grand Chamberlain,

attended him to the gate; and even to please him, Sidonia was

allowed to accompany them. The Pomeranian standard also was

hoisted to do him honour, and finally he bade the illustrious

widow farewell, recommending Sidonia to her care. But the fair

maiden herself he took in his arms, she weeping and sobbing, and

admonished her to be careful and discreet; and so, with a fair

wind, set sail from Wolgast, and never once looked back.

CHAPTER V.

_Sidonia knows nothing of God's Word, but seeks to learn it from

the young Prince of Wolgast._

Next day, Sunday, her Grace was unable to attend divine service in

the church, having caught cold by neglecting to put on her mantle

when she accompanied the Duke down to the water-gate. However,

though her Grace could not leave her chamber, yet she heard the

sermon of the preacher all the same; for an ear-tube descended

from her apartment down on the top of the pulpit, by which means

every word reached her, and a maid of honour always remained in

attendance to find out the lessons of the day, and the other

portions of the divine service, for her Grace, who thus could

follow the clergyman word for word. Sidonia was the one selected

for the office on this day.

But, gracious Heavens! when the Duchess said, Find me out the

prophet Isaiah, Sidonia looked in the New Testament; and when she

said, Open the Gospel of St. John, Sidonia looked in the Old

Testament. At first her Grace did not perceive her blunders; but

when she became aware of them, she started up, and tearing the

Bible out of her hands, exclaimed, "What! are you a heathen?

Yesterday you could not repeat a simple grace that every child

knows by heart, and to-day you do not know the difference between

the Old and New Testaments. For shame! Alas! what an ill weed I

have introduced into my house."

So the cunning wench began to weep, and said, her father had never

allowed her to learn Christianity, though she wished to do so

ardently, but always made a mock of it, and for this reason she

had sought a refuge with her Grace, where she hoped to become a

truly pious and believing Christian. The Duchess was quite

softened by her tears, and promised that Dr. Dionysius Gerschovius

should examine her in the catechism, and see what she knew. He was

a learned man from Daber [Footnote: A small town in Lower

Pomerania.], and her Grace's chaplain. The very idea of the doctor

frightened Sidonia so much, that her teeth chattered, and she

entreated her Grace, while she kissed her hand, to allow her at

least a fortnight for preparation and study before the doctor

came.

The Duchess promised this, and said, that Clara von Dewitz,

another of her maidens, would be an excellent person to assist her

in her studies, as she came from Daber also, and was familiar with

the views and doctrines held by Dr. Gerschovius. This Clara we

shall hear more of in our history. She was a year older than

Sidonia, intelligent, courageous, and faithful, with a quiet,

amiable disposition, and of most pious and Christian demeanour.

She wore a high, stiff ruff, out of which peeped forth her head

scarcely visible, and a long robe, like a stole, sweeping behind

her. She was privately betrothed to her Grace's Master of the

Horse, Marcus Bork by name, a cousin of Sidonia's; for, as her

Grace discouraged all kinds of gallantry or love-making at her

court, they were obliged to keep the matter secret, so that no

one, not even her Grace, suspected anything of the engagement.

This was the person appointed to instruct Sidonia in Christianity;

and every day the fair pupil visited Clara in her room for an

hour. But, alas! theology was sadly interrupted by Sidonia's folly

and levity, for she chattered away on all subjects: first about

Prince Ernest--was he affianced to any one? was he in love? had

Clara herself a lover? and if that old proser, meaning the

Duchess, looked always as sour? did she never allow a feast or a

dance? and then she would toss the catechism under the bed, or

tear it and trample on it, muttering, with much ill-temper, that

she was too old to be learning catechisms like a child.

Poor Clara tried to reason with her mildly, and said--"Her Grace

was very particular on these points. The maids of honour were

obliged to assemble weekly once in the church and once in her

Grace's own room, to be examined by Dr. Gerschovius, not only in

the Lutheran Catechism, which they all knew well, but also in that

written by his brother, Dr. Timothy Gerschovius of Old Stettin; so

Sidonia had better first learn the _Catechismum Lutheri_, and

afterwards the _Catechismum Gerschovii_." At last Sidonia

grew so weary of catechisms that she determined to run away from

court.

But Satan had more for her to do; so he put a little syrup into

the wormwood draught, and thus it was. One day passing along the

corridor from Clara's room, it so happened that Prince Ernest

opened his door, just as she came up to it, to let out the smoke,

and then began to walk up and down, playing softly on his lute.

Sidonia stood still for a few minutes with her eyes thrown up in

ecstasy, and then passed on; but the Prince stepped to the door,

and asked her did she play.

"Alas! no," she answered. "Her father had forbidden her to learn

the lute, though music was her passion, and her heart seemed

almost breaking with joy when she listened to it. If his Highness

would but play one little air over again for her."

"Yes, if you will enter, but not while you are standing there at

my door."

"Ah, do not ask me to enter, that would not be seemly; but I will

sit down here on this beer-barrel in the corridor and listen;

besides, music is improved by distance."

And she looked so tenderly at the young Prince that his heart

burned within him, and he stepped out into the corridor to play;

but the sound reaching the ears of her Grace, she looked out, and

Sidonia jumped up from the beer-barrel and fled away to her own

room.

When Sunday came again, all the maids of honour were assembled, as

usual, in her Grace's apartment, to be examined in the catechism;

and probably the Duchess had lamented much to the doctor over

Sidonia's levity and ignorance, for he kept a narrow watch on her

the whole day. At four of the clock Dr. Gerschovius entered in his

gown and bands, looking very solemn; for it was a saying of his

"that the devil invented laughter; and that it were better for a

man to be a weeping Heraclitus than a laughing Democritus." After

he had kissed the hand of her Grace, he said they had better now

begin with the Commandments; and, turning to Sidonia, asked her,

"What is forbidden by the seventh commandment?"

Now Sidonia, who had only learned the Lutheran Catechism, did not

understand the question in this form out of the Gerschovian

Catechism, and remained silent.

"What!" said the doctor, "not know my brother's catechism! You

must get one directly from the court bookseller--the Catechism of

Doctor Timothy Gerschovius--and have it learned by next Sunday."

Then turning to Clara, he repeated the question, and she, having

answered, received great praise.

Now it happened that just at this time the ducal horse were led up

to the horse-pond to water, and all the young pages and knights

were gathered in a group under the window of her Grace's

apartment, laughing and jesting merrily. So Sidonia looked out at

them, which the doctor no sooner perceived than he slapped her on

the hand with the catechism, exclaiming, "What! have you not heard

just now that all sinful desires are forbidden by the seventh

commandment, and yet you look forth upon the young men from the

window? Tell me what are sinful desires?"

But the proud girl grew red with indignation, and cried, "Do you

dare to strike me?" Then, turning to her Grace, she said, "Madam,

that sour old priest has struck me on the fingers. I will not

suffer this. My father shall hear of it."

Hereupon her Grace, and even the doctor, tried to appease her, but

in vain, and she ran crying from the apartment. In the corridor

she met the old treasurer, Jacob Zitsewitz, who hated the doctor

and all his rigid doctrines. So she complained of the treatment

which she had received, and pressed his hand and stroked his

beard, saying, would he permit a castle and land dowered maiden to

be scolded and insulted by an old parson because she looked out at

a window? That was worse than in the days of Popery. Now

Zitsewitz, who had a little wine in his head, on hearing this, ran

in great wrath to the apartment of her Grace, where soon a great

uproar was heard.

For the treasurer, in the heat of his remonstrance with the

priest, struck a little table violently which stood near him, and

overthrew it. On this had Iain the superb escritoire of her

Highness, made of Venetian glass, in which the ducal arms were

painted; and also the magnificent album of her deceased lord, Duke

Philip. The escritoire was broken, the ink poured forth upon the

album, from thence ran down to the costly Persian carpet, a

present from her brother, the Prince of Saxony, and finally

stained the velvet robe of her Highness herself, who started up

screaming, so that the old chamberlain rushed in to know what had

happened, and then he fell into a rage both with the priest and

the treasurer. At length her Grace was comforted by hearing that a

chemist in Grypswald could restore the book, and mend the glass

again as good as new; still she wept, and exclaimed, "Alas! who

could have thought it? all this was foreshadowed to her by Dr.

Martinus dropping her ring."

Here the treasurer, to conciliate her Grace, pretended that he

never had heard the story of the betrothal, and asked, "What does

your Grace mean?" Whereupon drying her eyes she answered, "O

Master Jacob, you will hear a strange story"--and here she went

over each particular, though every child in the street had it by

heart. So this took away her grief, and every one got to rights

again, for that day. But worse was soon to befall.

I have said that half-an-hour before dinner the band played to

summon all within the castle and the retainers to their respective

messes, as the custom then was; so that the long corridor was soon

filled with a crowd of all conditions--pages, knights, squires,

grooms, maids, and huntsmen, all hurrying to the apartments where

their several tables were laid. Sidonia, being aware of this, upon

the first roll of the drum skipped out into the corridor, dancing

up and down the whole length of it to the music, so that the

players declared they had never seen so beautiful a dancer, at

which her heart beat with joy; and as the crowd came up, they

stopped to admire her grace and beauty. Then she would pause and

say a few pleasing words to each, to a huntsman, if he were

passing--"Ah, I think no deer in the world could escape you, my

fine young peasant;" or if a knight, she would praise the colour

of his doublet and the tie of his garter; or if a laundress, she

would commend the whiteness of her linen, which she had never seen

equalled; and as to the old cook and butler, she enchanted them by

asking, had his Grace of Stettin ever seen them, for assuredly, if

he had, he would have taken their fine heads as models for Abraham

and Noah. Then she flung largess amongst them to drink the health

of the Duchess. Only when a young noble passed, she grew timid and

durst not venture to address him, but said, loud enough for him to

hear, "Oh, how handsome! Do you know his name?" Or, "It is easy to

see that he is a born nobleman"--and such like hypocritical

flatteries.

The Princess never knew a word of all this, for, according to

etiquette, she was the last to seat herself at table. So Sidonia's

doings were not discovered until too late, for by that time she

had won over the whole court, great and small, to her interests.

Amongst the cavaliers who passed one day were two fine young men,

Wedig von Schwetzkow, and Johann Appelmann, son of the burgomaster

at Stargard. They were both handsome; but Johann was a dissolute,

wild profligate, and Wedig was not troubled with too much sense.

Still he had not fallen into the evil courses which made the other

so notorious. "Who is that handsome youth?" asked Sidonia as

Johann passed; and when they told her, "Ah, a gentleman!" she

exclaimed, "who is of far higher value in my eyes than a

nobleman."

_Summa:_ they both fell in love with her on the instant; but

all the young squires were the same more or less, except her

cousin Marcus Bork, seeing that he was already betrothed. Likewise

after dinner, in place of going direct to the ladies' apartments,

she would take a circuitous route, so as to go by the quarter

where the men dined, and as she passed their doors, which they

left open on purpose, what rejoicing there was, and such running

and squeezing just to get a glimpse of her--the little putting

their heads under the arms of the tall, and there they began to

laugh and chat; but neither the Duchess nor the old chamberlain

knew anything of this, for they were in a different wing of the

castle, and besides, always took a sleep after dinner.

However, old Zitsewitz, when he heard the clamour, knew well it

was Sidonia, and would jump up from the marshal's table, though

the old marshal shook his head, and run to the gallery to have a

chat with her himself, and she laughed and coquetted with him, so

that the old knight would run after her and take her in his arms,

asking her where she would wish to go. Then she sometimes said, to

the castle garden to feed the pet stag, for she had never seen so

pretty a thing in all her life; and she would fetch crumbs of

bread with her to feed it. So he must needs go with her, and

Sidonia ran down the steps with him that led from the young men's

quarter to the castle court, while they all rose up to look after

her, and laugh at the old fool of a treasurer. But in a short time

they followed too, running up and down the steps in crowds, to see

Sidonia feeding the stag and caressing it, and sometimes trying to

ride on it, while old Zitsewitz held the horns.

Prince Ernest beheld all this from a window, and was ready to die

with jealousy and mortification, for he felt that Sidonia was gay

and friendly with every one but him. Indeed, since the day of the

lute-playing, he fancied she shunned him and treated him coldly.

But as Sidonia had observed particularly, that whenever the young

Prince passed her in the gallery he cast down his eyes and sighed,

she took another way of managing him.

CHAPTER VI.

_How the young Prince prepared a petition to his mother, the

Duchess, in favour of Sidonia--Item, of the strange doings of the

Laplander with his magic drum._

The day preceding that on which Sidonia was to repeat the

Catechism of Doctor Gerschovius (of which, by the way, she had not

learned one word), the young Duke suddenly entered his mother's

apartment, where she and her maidens were spinning, and asked her

if she remembered anything about a Laplander with a drum, who had

foretold some event to her and his father whilst they were at

Penemunde some years before; for he had been arrested at Eldena,

and was now in Wolgast.

"Alas!" said her Grace, "I perfectly remember the horrible

sorcerer. One spring I was at the hunt with your father near

Penemunde, when this wretch suddenly appeared driving two cows

before him on a large ice-field. He pretended that while he was

telling fortunes to the girls who milked the cows, a great storm

arose, and drove him out into the wide sea, which was a terrible

misfortune to him. But your father told him in Swedish, which

language the knave knew, that it had been better to prophesy his

own destiny. To which he replied, a man could as little foretell

his own fate as see the back of his own head, which every one can

see but himself. However, if the Duke wished, he would tell him

his fortune, and if it did not come out true, let all the world

hold him as a liar for his life long.

"Alas! your father consented. Whereupon the knave began to dance

and play upon his drum like one frenzied; so that it was evident

to see the spirit was working within him. Then he fell down like

one dead, and cried, 'Woe to thee when thy house is burning! Woe

to thee when thy house is burning!'

"Therefore be warned, my son; have nothing to do with this fellow,

for it so happened even as he said. On the 11th December '57, our

castle was burned, and your poor father had a rib broken in

consequence. Would that I had been the rib broken for him, so that

he might still reign over the land; and this was the true cause of

his untimely death. Therefore dismiss this sorcerer, for it is

Satan himself speaks in him."

Here Sidonia grew quite pale, and dropped the thread, as if taken

suddenly ill. Then she prayed the Duchess to excuse her, and

permit her to retire to her own room.

The moment the Duchess gave permission, Sidonia glided out; but,

in place of going to her chamber, she threw herself in a languid

attitude upon a seat in the corridor, just where she knew Prince

Ernest must pass, and leaned her head upon her hand. He soon came

out of his mother's room, and seeing Sidonia, took her hand

tenderly, asking, with visible emotion--

"Dear lady, what has happened?"

"Ah," she answered, "I am so weak that I cannot go on to my little

apartment. I know not what ails me; but I am so afraid----"

"Afraid of what, dearest lady?"

"Of that sour old priest. He is to examine me to-morrow in the

Catechism of Gerschovius, and I cannot learn a word of it, do what

I will. I know Luther's Catechism quite well" (this was a

falsehood, we know), "but that does not satisfy him, and if I

cannot repeat it he will slap my hands or box my ears, and my lady

the Duchess will be more angry than ever; but I am too old now to

learn catechisms."

Then she trembled like an aspen-leaf, and fixed her eyes on him

with such tenderness that he trembled likewise, and drawing her

arm within his, supported her to her chamber. On the way she

pressed his hand repeatedly; but with each pressure, as he

afterwards confessed, a pang shot through his heart, which might

have excited compassion from his worst enemy.

When they reached her chamber, she would not let him enter, but

modestly put him back, saying, "Leave me--ah! leave me, gracious

Prince. I must creep to my bed; and in the meantime let me entreat

you to persuade the priest not to torment me to-morrow morning."

The Prince now left her, and forgetting all about the Lapland

wizard whom he had left waiting in the courtyard, he rushed over

the drawbridge, up the main street behind St. Peter's, and into

the house of Dr. Gerschovius.

The doctor was indignant at his petition.

"My young Prince," he said, "if ever a human being stood in need

of God's Word, it is that young maiden." At last, however, upon

the entreaties of Prince Ernest, he consented to defer her

examination for four weeks, during which time she could fully

perfect herself in the catechism of his learned brother.

He then prayed the Prince not to allow his eyes to be dazzled by

this fair, sinful beauty, who would delude him as she had done all

the other men in the castle, not excepting even that old sinner

Zitsewitz.

When the Prince returned to the castle, he found a great crowd

assembled round the Lapland wizard, all eagerly asking to have

their fortunes told, and Sidonia was amongst them, as merry and

lively as if nothing had ailed her. When the Prince expressed his

surprise, she said, that finding herself much relieved by lying

down, she had ventured into the fresh air, to recreate herself,

and have her fortune told. Would not the Prince likewise wish to

hear his?

So, forgetting all his mother's wise injunctions, he advanced with

Sidonia to the wizard. The Lapland drum, which lay upon his knees,

was a strange instrument; and by it we can see what arts Satan

employs to strengthen his kingdom in all places and by all means.

For the Laplanders are Christians, though they in some sort

worship the devil, and therefore he imparts to them much of his

own power. This drum which they use is made out of a piece of

hollow wood, which must be either fir, pine, or birch, and which

grows in such a particular place that it follows the course of the

sun; that is, the pectines, fibræ, and lineæ in the annual rings

of the wood must wind from right to left. Having hollowed out such

a tree, they spread a skin over it, fastened down with little

pegs; and on the centre of the skin is painted the sun, surrounded

by figures of men, beasts, birds, and fishes, along with Christ

and the holy Apostles. All this is done with the rind of the

elder-tree, chewed first beneath their teeth. Upon the top of the

drum there is an index in the shape of a triangle, from which hang

a number of little rings and chains. When the wizard wishes to

propitiate Satan and receive his power, he strikes the drum with a

hammer made of the reindeer's horn, not so much to procure a sound

as to set the index in motion with all its little chains, that it

may move over the figures, and point to whatever gives the

required answer. At the same time the magician murmurs

conjurations, springs sometimes up from the ground, screams,

laughs, dances, reels, becomes black in the face, foams, twists

his eyes, and falls to the ground at last in an ecstasy, dragging

the drum down upon his face.

Any one may then put questions to him, and all will come to pass

that he answers. All this was done by the wizard; but he desired

strictly that when he fell upon the ground, no one should touch

him with the foot, and secondly, that all flies and insects should

be kept carefully from him. So after he had danced, and screamed,

and twisted his face so horribly that half the women fainted, and

foamed and raged until the demon seemed to have taken full

possession of him, he fell down, and then every one put questions

to him, to which he responded; but the answers sometimes produced

weeping, sometimes laughing, according as some gentle maiden heard

that her lover was safe, or that he had been struck by the mast on

shipboard and tumbled into the sea. And all came out true, as was

afterwards proved.

Sidonia now invited the Prince to try his fortune; and so,

forgetting the admonitions of the Duchess, he said, "What dost

thou prophesy to me?"

"Beware of a woman, if you would live long and happily," was the

answer.

"But of what woman?"

"I will not name her, for she is present."

Then the Prince turned pale and looked at Sidonia, who grew pale

also, but made no answer, only laughed, and advancing asked, "What

dost thou prophesy to me?" But immediately the wizard shrieked,

"Away! away! I burn, I burn! thou makest me yet hotter than I am!"

Many thought these exclamations referred to Sidonia's beauty,

particularly the young lords, who murmured, "Now every one must

acknowledge her beauty, when even this son of Satan feels his

heart burning when she approaches." And Sidonia laughed merrily at

their gallantries.

Just then the Grand Chamberlain came by, and having heard what had

happened, he angrily dismissed the crowd, and sending for the

executioner, ordered the cheating impostor to be whipped and

branded, and then sent over the frontier.

The wizard, who had been lying quite stiff, now cried out (though

he had never seen the Chamberlain before)--"Listen, Ulrich! I will

prophesy something to thee: if it comes not to pass, then punish

me; but if it does, then give me a boat and seven loaves, that I

may sail away to-morrow to my own country."

Ulrich refused to hear his prophecy; but the wizard cried

out--"Ulrich, this day thy wife Hedwig will die at Spantekow."

Ulrich grew pale, but only answered, "Thou liest! how can that

be?" He replied, "Thy cousin Clas will visit her; she will descend

to the cellar to fetch him some of the Italian wine for which you

wrote, and which arrived yesterday; a step of the stairs will

break as she is ascending; she will fall forward upon the flask,

which will cut her throat through, and so she will die."

When he ceased, the alarmed Ulrich called loudly to the chief

equerry, Appelmann, who just then came by--"Quick! saddle the best

racer in the stables, and ride for life to Spantekow, for it may

be as he has prophesied, and let us outwit the devil. Haste,

haste, for the love of God, and I will never forget it to thee!"

So the equerry rode without stop or stay to Spantekow, and he

found the cousin Clas in the house; but when he asked for the Lady

Hedwig, they said, "She is in the cellar." So no misfortune had

happened then; but as they waited and she appeared not, they

descended to look for her, and lo! just as the wizard had

prophesied, she had fallen upon the stairs while ascending, and

there lay dead.

The mournful news was brought by sunset to Wolgast, and Ulrich, in

his despair and grief, wished to burn the Laplander; but Prince

Ernest hindered him, saying, "It is more knightly, Ulrich, to keep

your word than to cool your vengeance." So the old man stood

silent a long space, and then said, "Well, young man, if you

abandon Sidonia, I will release the Laplander."

The Prince coloured, and the Lord Chamberlain thought that he had

discovered a secret; but as the prophecy of the wizard came again

into Prince Ernest's mind, he said--

"Well, Ulrich, I will give up the maiden Sidonia. Here is my

hand."

Accordingly, next morning the wizard was released from prison and

given a boat, with seven loaves and a pitcher of water, that he

might sail back to his own country. The wind, however, was due

north, but the people who crossed the bridge to witness his

departure were filled with fear when they saw him change the wind

at his pleasure to suit himself; for he pulled out a string full

of knots, and having swung it about, murmuring incantations, all

the vanes on the towers creaked and whirled right about, all the

windmills in the town stopped, all the vessels and boats that were

going up the stream became quite still, and their sails flapped on

the masts, for the wind had changed in a moment from north to

south, and the north waves and the south waves clashed together.

As every one stood wondering at this, the sailors and fishermen in

particular, the wizard sprang into his boat and set forth with a

fair wind, singing loudly, "Jooike Duara! Jooike Duara!"

[Footnote: This is the beginning of a magic rhyme, chanted even by

the distant Calmucks--namely, _Dschie jo eie jog_.] and soon

disappeared from sight, nor was he ever again seen in that

country.

CHAPTER VII.

_How Ulrich von Schwerin buries his spouse, and Doctor

Gerschovius comforts him out of God's Word._

This affair with the Lapland wizard much troubled the Grand

Chamberlain, and his faith suffered sore temptations. So he

referred to Dr. Gerschovius, and asked him how the prophets of God

differed from those of the devil. Whereupon the doctor recommended

him to meditate on God's Word, wherein he would find a source of

consolation and a solution of all doubts.

So the mourning Ulrich departed for his castle of Spantekow,

trusting in the assistance of God. And her Grace, with all her

court, resolved to attend the funeral also, to do him honour. They

proceeded forth, therefore, dressed in black robes, their horses

also caparisoned with black hangings, and the Duchess ordered a

hundred wax lights for the ceremony. Sidonia alone declined

attending, and gave out that she was sick in bed. The truth,

however, was, that as Duke Ernest was obliged to remain at home to

take the command of the castle, and affix his signature to all

papers, she wished to remain also.

The mourning cortège, therefore, had scarcely left the court, when

Sidonia rose and seated herself at the window, which she knew the

young Prince must pass along with his attendants on their way to

the office of the castle. Then taking up a lute, which she had

purchased privately, and practised night and morning in place of

learning the catechism, she played a low, soft air, to attract

their attention. So all the young knights looked up; and when

Prince Ernest arrived he looked up also, and seeing Sidonia,

exclaimed, with surprise, "Beautiful Sidonia, how have you learned

the lute?" At which she blushed and answered modestly, "Gracious

Prince, I am only self-taught. No one here understands the lute

except your Highness."

"Does this employment, then, give you much pleasure?"

"Ah, yes! If I could only play it well; I would give half my life

to learn it properly. There is no such sweet enjoyment upon earth,

I think, as this."

"But you have been sick, lady, and the cold air will do you an

injury."

"Yes, it is true I have been ill, but the air rather refreshes me;

and besides, I feel the melancholy of my solitude less here."

"Now farewell, dear lady; I must attend to the business of the

castle."

This little word--"dear lady"--gave Sidonia such confidence, that

by the time she expected Prince Ernest to pass again on his

return, she was seated at the window awaiting him with her lute,

to which she now sang in a clear, sweet voice. But the Prince

passed on as if he heard nothing--never even once looked up, to

Sidonia's great mortification. However, the moment he reached his

own apartment, he commenced playing a melancholy air upon his

lute, as if in response to hers. The artful young maiden no sooner

heard this than she opened her door. The Prince at the same

instant opened his to let out the smoke, and their eyes met, when

Sidonia uttered a feeble cry and fell fainting upon the floor. The

Prince, seeing this, flew to her, raised her up, and trembling

with emotion, carried her back to her room and laid her down upon

the bed. Now indeed it was well for him that he had given that

promise to Ulrich. When Sidonia after some time slowly opened her

eyes, the Prince asked tenderly what ailed her; and she said, "I

must have taken cold at the window, for I felt very ill, and went

to the door to call an attendant; but I must have fainted then,

for I remember nothing more." Alas! the poor Prince, he believed

all this, and conjured her to lie down until he called a maid, and

sent for the physician if she desired it; but, no--she refused,

and said it would pass off soon. (Ah, thou cunning maiden! it may

well pass off when it never was on.)

However, she remained in bed until the next day, when the Princess

and her train returned home from the funeral. Her Grace had

assisted at the obsequies with all princely state, and even laid a

crown of rosemary with her own hand upon the head of the corpse,

and a little prayer-book beside it, open at that fine hymn "Pauli

Sperati" (which also was sung over the grave). Then the husband

laid a tin crucifix on the coffin, with the inscription from I

John iii. 8--"The Son of God was manifested that He might destroy

the works of the devil." After which the coffin was lowered into

the grave with many tears.

Some days after this, being Sunday, Doctor Gerschovius and the

Grand Chamberlain were present at the ducal table. Ulrich indeed

ate little, for he was filled with grief, only sipped a little

broth, into which he had crumbled some reindeer cheese, not to

appear ungracious; but when dinner was over, he raised his head,

and asked Doctor Gerschovius to inform him now in what lay the

difference between the prophets of God and those of the devil. The

Duchess was charmed at the prospect of such a profitable

discourse, and ordered a cushion and footstool to be placed for

herself, that she might remain to hear it. Then she sent for the

whole household--maidens, squires, and pages--that they too might

be edified, and learn the true nature of the devil's gifts. The

hall was soon as full, therefore, as if a sermon were about to be

preached; and the doctor, seeing this, stroked his beard, and he

begun as follows: [Footnote: Perhaps some readers will hold the

rationalist doctrine that no prophecy is possible or credible, and

that no mortal can under any circumstances see into futurity; but

how then can they account for the wonderful phenomena of animal

magnetism, which are so well authenticated? Do they deny all the

facts which have been elicited by the great advance made recently

in natural and physiological philosophy? I need not here bring

forward proofs from the ancients, showing their universal belief

in the possibility of seeing into futurity, nor a cloud of

witnesses from our modern philosophers, attesting the truth of the

phenomena of somnambulism, but only observe that this very Academy

of Paris, which in 1784 anathematised Mesmer as a quack, a cheat,

and a charlatan or fool, and which in conjunction with all the

academies of Europe (that of Berlin alone excepted) reviled his

doctrines and insulted all who upheld them, as witches had been

reviled in preceding centuries, and compelled Mesmer himself to

fly for protection to Frankfort--this very academy, I say, on the

12th February 1826, rescinded all their condemnatory verdicts, and

proclaimed that the wonderful phenomena of animal magnetism had

been so well authenticated that doubt was no longer possible. This

confession of faith was the more remarkable, because the members

of the commission of inquiry had been carefully selected, on

purpose, from physicians who were totally adverse to the doctrines

of Mesmer.

There are but two modes, I think, of explaining these

extraordinary phenomena--either by supposing them effected by

supernatural agency, as all seers and diviners from antiquity,

through the Middle Ages down to our somnambulists, have pretended

that they really stood in communication with spirit; or, by

supposing that there is an innate latent divining element in our

own natures, which only becomes evident and active under certain

circumstances, and which is capable of revealing the _future_

with more or less exactitude just as the mind can recall the

_past_. For _past_ and _future_ are but different

forms of our own subjective intuition of time, and because this

internal intuition represents no figure, we seek to supply the

defect by an analogy. For time exists _within_ us, not

_without_ us; it is not something which subsists of itself,

but it is the form only of our internal sense.

These two modes of explaining the phenomena present, I know, great

difficulties; the latter especially. However, the pantheistical

solution of the Hegelian school adopted by Kieser, Kluge, Wirth,

Hoffman, pleases me still less. I even prefer that of

Jung-Stilling and Kerner--but at all events one thing is certain,

the _facts_ are there; only ignorance, stupidity, and

obstinacy can deny them. The _cause_ is still a subject of

speculation, doubt, and difficulty. It is only by a vast induction

of facts, as in natural philosophy, that we can ever hope to

arrive at the knowledge of a general law. The crown of all

creation is _man_; therefore while we investigate so acutely

all other creatures, let us not shrink back from the strange and

unknown depths of our own nature which magnetism has opened to

us.]

I am rejoiced to treat of this subject now, considering how lately

that demon Lapp befooled ye all. And I shall give you many signs,

whereby in future a prophet of God may be distinguished from a

prophet of the devil. 1st, Satan's prophets are not conscious of

what they utter; but God's prophets are always perfectly

conscious, both of the inspiration they receive and the

revelations they make known. For as the Laplander grew frenzied,

and foamed at the mouth, so it has been with all false prophets

from the beginning. Even the blind heathen called prophesying

_mania_, or the wisdom of _madness_. The secret of

producing this madness was known to them; sometimes it was by the

use of roots or aromatic herbs, or by exhalations, as in the case

of the Pythoness, whose incoherent utterances were written by the

priests of Apollo, for when the fit was over, all remembrance of

what she had prophesied vanished too. In the Bible we find all

false prophets described as frenzied. In Isaiah xliv. 25--"God

maketh the diviners mad." In Ezekiel xiii. 3--"Woe to the foolish

prophets." Hosea ix. 7--"The prophet is a fool, the spiritual man

is mad." And Isaiah xxviii. 7 explains fully how this madness was

produced.

Namely, by wine and the strong drink _Sekar_. [Footnote: It

is doubtful of what this drink was composed. Hieronymus and Aben

Ezra imagine that it was of the nature of strong beer. Probably it

resembled the potion with which the mystery-men amongst the

savages of the present day produce this divining frenzy. We find

such in use throughout Tartary, Siberia, America, and Africa, as

if the usage had descended to them from one common tradition.

Witches, it is well known, made frequent use of potions, and as

all somnambulists assert that the seat of the soul's greatest

activity is in the stomach, it is not incredible what Van Helmont

relates, that having once tasted the root _napellus_, his

intellect all at once, accompanied by an unusual feeling of

ecstasy, seemed to remove from his brain to his stomach.] Further

examples of this madness are given in the Bible, as Saul when

under the influence of the evil spirit flung his spear at the

innocent David; and the four hundred and fifty prophets of Baal,

who leaped upon the altar, and screamed, and cut themselves with

knives and lancets until the blood flowed; and the maiden with the

spirit of divination, that met Paul in the streets of Philippi;

with many others.

But all this is an abomination in the sight of God. For as the

Lord came not to His prophet Elijah in the strong wind, nor in the

earthquake, nor in the fire, but in the still small voice, so does

He evidence Himself in all His prophets; and we find no record in

Scripture, either of their madness, or of their having forgotten

the oracles they uttered, like the Pythoness and others inspired

by Satan. [Footnote: It is well known that somnambulists never

remember upon their recovery what they have uttered during the

crisis. Therefore phenomena of this class appear to belong, in

some things, to that of the divining frenzy, though in others to

quite a different category of the divining life.] Further, you may

observe that the false prophets can always prophesy when they

choose, Satan is ever willing to come when they exorcise him; but

the true prophets of God are but instruments in the hand of the

Lord, and can only speak when He chooses the spirit to enter into

them. So we find them saying invariably--"This is the word which

came unto me," or "This is the word which the Lord spake unto me."

For the Lord is too high and holy to come at the bidding of a

creature, or obey the summons of his will. St. Peter confirms

this, 2 Pet. i. 21, that no prophecy ever came at the will of man.

Again, the false prophets were persons of known infamous

character, and in this differed from the prophets of God, who were

always righteous men in word and deed. Diodorus informs us of the

conduct of the Pythoness and the priests of Apollo, and also that

all oracles were bought with gold, and the answer depended on the

weight of the sack. As Ezekiel notices, xiii. 19; and Micah iii.

8. Further, the holy prophets suffered all manner of persecution

for the sake of God, as Daniel, Elias, Micah, yet remained

faithful, with but one exception, and were severely punished if

they fell into crime, and the gift of prophecy taken from them;

for God cannot dwell in a defiled temple, but Satan can dwell in

no other.

Also, Satan's prophets speak only of temporal things, but God's

people of spiritual things. The heathen oracles, for instance,

never foretold any events but those concerning peace or war, or

what men desire in riches, health, or advancement--in short,

temporal matters alone. Whereas God's people, in addition to

temporal concerns, preached repentance and holiness to the Jewish

people, and the coming of Christ's kingdom, in whom all nations

should be blessed. For as the soul is superior to the body, so are

God's prophets superior to those of the Prince of this world.

And in conclusion, observe that Satan's seers abounded with lies,

as all heathen history testifies, or their oracles were capable of

such different interpretations that they became a subject of

mockery and contempt to the wise amongst the ancient philosophers.

But be not surprised if they sometimes spoke truth, as the Lapland

wizard has done, for the devil's power is superior to man's, and

he can see events which, though close at hand, are yet hidden from

us, as a father can foretell an approaching storm, though his

little son cannot do so, and therefore looks upon his father's

wisdom as supernatural. [Footnote: The somnambulists also can

prophesy of those events which are near at hand, but never of the

distant.] But the devil has not the power to see into futurity,

nor even the angels of God, only God Himself.

The prophets of God, on the contrary, are given power by Him to

look through all time at a glance, as if it were but a moment; for

a thousand years to Him are but as a watch of the night; and

therefore they all from the beginning testified of the Saviour

that was to come, and rejoiced in His day as if they really beheld

Him, and all stood together as brothers in one place, and at the

same time in His blessed presence. But what unanimity and feeling

has ever been observed by the seers of Satan, when the

contradictions amongst their oracles were notorious to every one?

And as the eyes of all the holy prophets centred upon Christ, so

the eyes of the greatest of all prophets penetrated the furthest

depths of futurity. Not only His own life, sufferings, death, and

resurrection were foretold by Him, but the end of the Jewish

kingdom, the dispersion of their race, the rise of His Church from

the grain of mustard-seed to the wide, world-spreading tree; and

all has been fulfilled. Be assured, therefore, that this eternal

glory, which He promised to those who trust in Him, will be

fulfilled likewise when He comes to judge all nations. So, my

worthy Lord Ulrich, cease to weep for your spouse who sleeps in

Jesus, for a greater Prophet than the Lapland wizard has said, "I

am the resurrection and the life, whosoever believeth in Me shall

never die." [Footnote: In addition to the foregoing distinctions

between the Satanic and the holy prophets, I may add the

following--that almost all the diviners amongst the heathen were

_women_. For instance, Cassandra, the Pythia in Delphi,

Triton and Peristhæa in Dodona, the Sybils, the Velleda of

Tacitus, the Mandragoras, and Druidesses, the witches of the

Reformation age; and in fine, the modern somnambules are all women

too. But throughout the whole Bible we find that the prophetic

power was exclusively conferred upon _men_, with two

exceptions--namely, Deborah, Judges iv. 4, and Hilda, 2 Chron.

xxxiv. 22--for there is no evidence that Miriam had a seer spirit;

she was probably only God-inspired, though classed under the

general term prophet. We find, indeed, that woe was proclaimed

against the divining women who prophesy out of their own head,

Ezekiel xiii. 17-23; so amongst the people of God the revelation

of the future was confined to _men_, amongst the heathen to

_women_, or if men are mentioned in these pagan rites, it is

only as assistants and inferior agents, like animals, metals,

roots, stones, and such like. See Cicero, _De Divinatione_,

i. 18.]

CHAPTER VIII.

_How Sidonia rides upon the pet stag, and what evil consequences

result therefrom._

When the discourse had ended, her Grace retired to her apartment

and Ulrich to his, for it was their custom, as I have said, to

sleep after dinner. Doctor Gerschovius returned home, and the

young Prince descended to the gardens with his lute. Now was a

fine time for the young knights, for they had been sadly disturbed

in their carouse by that godly prophesying of the doctor's, and

they now returned to their own quarter to finish it, headed by the

old treasurer Zitsewitz. Then a merry uproar of laughing, singing,

and jesting commenced, and as the door lay wide open as usual,

Sidonia heard all from her chamber; so stepping out gently with a

piece of bread in her hand, she tripped along the corridor past

their door. No sooner was she perceived than a loud storm of

cheers greeted her, which she returned with smiles and bows, and

then danced down the steps to the courtyard. Several rose up to

pursue her, amongst whom Wedig and Appelmann were the most eager.

But they were too late, and saw nothing but the tail of her dress

as she flew round the corner into the second court. Just then an

old laundress, bringing linen to the castle for her Highness,

passed by, and told the young men that the young lady had been

feeding the tame stag with bread, and then jumped on its back

while she held the horns, and that the animal had immediately

galloped off like lightning into the second court; so that the

young knights and squires rushed instantly after her, fearing that

some accident might happen, and presently they heard her scream

twice. Appelmann was the first to reach the outer court, and there

beheld poor Sidonia in a sad condition, for the stag had flung her

off. Fortunately it was on a heap of soft clay, and there she lay

in a dead faint.

Had the stag thrown her but a few steps further, against the

manger for the knights' horses, she must have been killed. But

Satan had not yet done with her, and therefore, no doubt, prepared

this soft pillow for her head.

When Appelmann saw that she was quite insensible, he kneeled down

and kissed first her little feet, then her white hands, and at

last her lips, while she lay at the time as still as death, poor

thing. Just then Wedig came up in a great passion; for the

castellan's son, who was playing ball, had flung the ball right

between his legs, out of tricks, as he was running by, and nearly

threw him down, whereupon Wedig seized hold of the urchin by his

thick hair to punish him, for all the young knights were laughing

at his discomfiture; but the boy bit him in the hip, and then

sprang into his father's house, and shut the door. How little do

we know what will happen! It was this bite which caused Wedig's

lamentable death a little after.

But if he was angry before, what was his rage now when he beheld

the equerry, Appelmann, kissing the insensible maiden.

"How now, peasant," he cried, "what means this boldness? How dare

this tailor's son treat a castle and land dowered maiden in such a

way? Are noble ladies made for his kisses?" And he draws his

poignard to rush upon Appelmann, who draws forth his in return,

and now assuredly there would have been murder done, if Sidonia

had not just then opened her eyes, and starting up in amazement

prayed them for her sake to keep quiet. She had been quite

insensible, and knew nothing at all of what had happened. The old

treasurer, with the other young knights, came up now, and strove

to make peace between the two rivals, holding them apart by force;

but nothing could calm the jealous Wedig, who still cried, "Let me

avenge Sidonia!--let me avenge Sidonia!" So that Prince Ernest,

hearing the tumult in the garden, ran with his lute in his hand to

see what had happened. When they told him, he grew as pale as a

corpse that such an indignity should have been offered to Sidonia,

and reprimanded his equerry severely, but prayed that all would

keep quiet now, as otherwise the Duchess and the Lord Chamberlain

would certainly be awakened out of their after-dinner sleep, and

then what an afternoon they would all have. This calmed every one,

except the jealous Wedig, who, having drunk deeply, cried out

still louder than before, "Let me go. I will give my life for the

beautiful Sidonia. I will avenge the insolence of this peasant

knave!"

When Sidonia observed all this, she felt quite certain that a

terrible storm was brewing for all of them, and so she ran to

shelter herself through the first open door that came in her way,

and up into the second corridor; but further adventures awaited

her here, for not being acquainted with this part of the castle,

she ran direct into an old lumber-room, where she found, to her

great surprise, a young man dressed in rusty armour, and wearing a

helmet with a serpent crest upon his head. This was Hans von

Marintzky, whose brain Sidonia had turned by reading the Amadis

with him in the castle gardens, and as she had often sighed, and

said that she, too, could have loved the serpent knight, the poor

love-stricken Hans, taking this for a favourable sign, determined

to disguise himself as described in the romance, and thus secure

her love.

So when her beautiful face appeared at the door, Hans screamed for

joy, like a young calf, and falling on one knee,

exclaimed--"Adored Princess, your serpent knight is here to claim

your love, and tender his hand to you in betrothal, for no other

wife do I desire but thee; and if the Princess Rosaliana herself

were here to offer me her love, I would strike her on the face."

Sidonia was rather thunderstruck, as one may suppose, and

retreated a few steps, saying, "Stand up, dear youth; what ails

you?"

"So I am dear to you," he cried, still kneeling; "I am then really

dear to you, adored Princess? Ah! I hope to be yet dearer when I

make you my spouse."

Sidonia had not foreseen this termination to their romance

reading, but she suppressed her laughter, remembering how she had

lost her lover Uckermann by showing scorn; so she drew herself up

with dignity, and said, with as grave a face as a chief mourner--

"If you will not rise, sir knight, I must complain to her

Highness; for I cannot be your spouse, seeing that I have resolved

never to marry." (Ah! how willingly, how willingly you would have

taken any husband half a year after.) "But if you will do me a

service, brave knight, run instantly to the court, where Wedig and

Appelmann are going to murder each other, and separate them, or my

gracious lady and old Ulrich will awake, and then we shall all be

punished."

The poor fool jumped up instantly, and exclaiming, "Death for my

adored princess!" he sprung down the steps, though rather

awkwardly, not being accustomed to the greaves; and rushing into

the middle of the crowd, with his vizor down, and the drawn sword

in his hand, he began making passes at every one that came in his

way, crying, "Death for my adored princess! Long live the

beautiful Sidonia! Knaves, have done with your brawling, or I

shall lay you all dead at my feet."

At first every one stuck up close by the wall when they saw the

madman, to get out of reach of his sword, which he kept whirling

about his head; but as soon as he was recognised by his voice,

Wedig called out to him--

"Help, brother, help! Will you suffer that this peasant boor

Appelmann should kiss the noble Sidonia as she lay there faint and

insensible? Yet I saw him do this. So help me, relieve me, that I

may brand this low-born knave for his daring."

"What? My adored princess!" exclaimed the serpent knight. "This

valet, this groom, dared to kiss her? and I would think myself

blessed but to touch her shoe-tie;" and he fell furiously upon

Appelmann.

The uproar was now so great that it might have aroused the Duchess

and Ulrich even from their last sleep, had they been in the

castle.

But, fortunately, some time before the riot began, both had gone

out by the little private gate, to attend afternoon service at St.

Peter's Church, in the town. For the archdeacon was sick, and

Doctor Gerschovius was obliged to take his place there. No one,

therefore, was left in the castle to give orders or hold command;

even the castellan had gone to hear service; and no one minded

Prince Ernest, he was so young, besides being under tutelage; and

as to old Zitsewitz, he was as bad as the worst of them himself.

The Prince threatened to have the castle bells rung if they were

not quiet; and the uproar had indeed partially subsided just at

the moment the serpent knight fell upon Appelmann. The Prince then

ordered his equerry to leave the place instantly, under pain of

his severe displeasure, for he saw that both had drunk rather

deeply.

So Appelmann turned to depart as the Prince commanded, but Wedig,

who had been relieved by Hans the serpent, sprung after him with

his dagger, limping though, for the bite in his hip made him

stiff. Appelmann darted through the little water-gate and over the

bridge; the other pursued him; and Appelmann, seeing that he was

foaming with rage, jumped over the rails into a boat. Wedig

attempted to do the same, but being stiff from the bite, missed

the boat, and came down plump into the water.

As he could not swim, the current carried him rapidly down the

stream before the others had time to come up; but he was still

conscious, and called to Hans, "Comrade, save me!" So Hans,

forgetting his heavy cuirass, plunged in directly, and soon

reached the drowning man. Wedig, however, in his death-struggles,

seized hold of him with such force that they both instantly

disappeared. Then every one sprang to the boats to try and save

them; but being Sunday, the boats were all moored, so that by the

time they were unfastened it was too late, and the two unfortunate

young men had sunk for ever.

What calamities may be caused by the levity and self-will of a

beautiful woman! From the time of Helen of Troy up to the present

moment, the world has known this well; but, alas! this was but the

beginning of that tragedy which Sidonia played in Pomerania, as

that other wanton did in Phrygia.

Let us hear the conclusion, however. Prince Ernest, now being

truly alarmed, despatched a messenger to the church for her

Highness; but as Doctor Gerschovius had not yet ended his

exordium, her Grace would by no means be disturbed, and desired

the messenger to go to Ulrich, who no sooner heard the tidings

than he rushed down to the water-gate. There he found a great

crowd assembled, all eagerly trying, with poles and hooks, to fish

out the bodies of the two young men; and one fellow even had tied

a piece of barley bread to a rope, and flung it into the water--as

the superstition goes that it will follow a corpse in the stream,

and point to where it lies. And the women and children were

weeping and lamenting on the bridge; but the old knight pushed

them all aside with his elbows, and cried--"Thousand devils! what

are ye all at here?"

Every one was silent, for the young men had agreed not to betray

Sidonia. Then Ulrich asked the Prince, who replied, that

Marintzky, having put on some old armour to frighten the others,

as he believed, they pursued him in fun over the bridge, and he

and another fell over into the water. This was all he knew of the

matter, for he was playing on the lute in the garden when the

tumult began.

"Thousand devils!" cries Ulrich; "I cannot turn my back a moment

but there must be a riot amongst the young fellows. Listen! young

lord--when it comes to your turn to rule land and people, I

counsel you, send all the young fellows to the devil. Away with

them! they are a vain and dissolute crew. Get up the bodies, if

you can; but, for my part, I would care little if a few more were

baptized in the same way. Speak! some of you: who commenced this

tavern broil? Speak! I must have an answer."

This adjuration had its effect, for a man answered--"Sidonia made

the young men mad, and so it all happened." It was her own cousin,

Marcus Bork, who spoke, for which reason Sidonia never could

endure him afterwards, and finally destroyed him, as shall be

related in due time.

When Ulrich found that Sidonia was the cause of all, he raged with

fury, and commanded them to tell him all. When Marcus had related

the whole affair, he swore by the seven thousand devils that he

would make her remember it, and that he would instantly go up to

her chamber.

But Prince Ernest stepped before him, saying, "Lord Ulrich, I have

made you a promise--you must now make one to me: it is to leave

this maiden in peace; she is not to blame for what has happened."

But Ulrich would not listen to him.

"Then I withdraw my promise," said the Prince. "Now act as you

think proper."

"Thousand devils! she had better give up that game," exclaimed

Ulrich. However, he consented to leave her undisturbed, and

departed with vehement imprecations on her head, just as the

Duchess returned from church, and was seen advancing towards the

crowd.

CHAPTER IX.

_How Sidonia makes the young Prince break his word--Item, how

Clara von Dewitz in vain tries to turn her from her evil ways._

It may be easily conjectured what a passion her Grace fell into

when the whole story was made known to her, and how she stormed

against Sidonia. At last she entered the castle; but Prince

Ernest, rightly suspecting her object, slipped up to the corridor,

and met her just as she had reached Sidonia's chamber. Here he

took her hand, kissed it, and prayed her not to disgrace the young

maiden, for that she was innocent of all the evil that had

happened.

But she pushed him away, exclaiming--"Thou disobedient son, have I

not heard of thy gallantries with this girl, whom Satan himself

has sent into my royal house? Shame on thee! One of thy noble

station to take the part of a murderess!"

"But you have judged harshly, my mother. I never made love to the

maiden. Leave her in peace, and do not make matters worse, or all

the young nobles will fight to the death for her."

"Ay, and thou, witless boy, the first of all. Oh, that my beloved

spouse, Philippus Primus, could rise from his grave--what would he

say to his lost son, who, like the prodigal in Scripture, loves

strange women and keeps company with brawlers!" (Weeping.)

"Who has said that I am a lost son?"

"Doctor Gerschovius and Ulrich both say it."

"Then I shall run the priest through the body, and challenge the

knight to mortal combat, unless they both retract their words."

"No! stay, my son," said the Duchess; "I must have mistaken what

they said. Stay, I command you!"

"Never! Unless Sidonia be left in peace, such deeds will be done

to-day that all Pomerania will ring with them for years."

In short, the end of the controversy was, that the Duchess at last

promised to leave Sidonia unmolested; and then retired to her

chamber much disturbed, where she was soon heard singing the 109th

psalm, with a loud voice, accompanied by the little spindle clock.

Sidonia, who was hiding in her room, soon heard of all that had

happened, through the Duchess's maid, whom she kept in

pay;--indeed, all the servants were her sworn friends, in

consequence of the liberal largess she gave them; and even the

young lords and knights were more distractedly in love with her

than ever after the occurrences of the day, for her cunning turned

everything to profit.

So next morning, having heard that Prince Ernest was going to

Eldena to receive the dues, she watched for him, probably through

the key-hole, knowing he must pass her door. Accordingly, just as

he went by, she opened it, and presented herself to his eyes

dressed in unusual elegance and coquetry, and wearing a short robe

which showed her pretty little sandals. The Prince, when he saw

the short robe, and that she looked so beautiful, blushed, and

passed on quickly, turning away his head, for he remembered the

promise he had given to Ulrich, and was afraid to trust himself

near her.

But Sidonia stepped before him, and flinging herself at his feet,

began to weep, murmuring, "Gracious Prince and Lord, accept my

gratitude, for you alone have saved me, a poor young maiden, from

destruction."

"Stand up, dear lady, stand up."

"Never until my tears fall upon your feet." And then she kissed

his yellow silk hose ardently, continuing, "What would have become

of me, a helpless, forlorn orphan, without your protection?"

Here the young Prince could no longer restrain his emotions; if he

had pledged his word to the whole world, even to the great God

Himself, he must have broken it. So he raised her up and kissed

her, which she did not resist; only sighed, "Ah! if any one saw us

now, we would both be lost." But this did not restrain him, and he

kissed her again and again, and pressed her to his heart, when she

trembled, and murmured scarcely audibly, "Oh! why do I love you

so! Leave me, my lord, leave me; I am miserable enough."

"Do you then love me, Sidonia? Oh! let me hear you say it once

more. You love me, enchanting Sidonia!"

"Alas!" she whispered, while her whole frame trembled, "what have

I foolishly said? Oh! I am so unhappy."

"Sidonia! tell me once again you love me. I cannot credit my

happiness, for you are even more gracious with the young nobles

than with me, and often have you martyred my heart with jealousy."

"Yes; I am courteous to them all, for so my father taught me, and

said it was safer for a maiden so to be--but----"

"But what? Speak on."

"Alas!" and here she covered her face with her hands; but Prince

Ernest pressed her to his heart, and kissed her, asking her again

if she really loved him; and she murmured a faint "yes;" then as

if the shame of such a confession had killed her, she tore herself

from his arms, and sprang into her chamber. So the young Prince

pursued his way to Eldena, but took so little heed about the dues

that Ulrich shook his head over the receipts for half a year

after.

When mid-day came, and the band struck up for dinner, Sidonia was

prepared for a similar scene with the young knights, and, as she

passed along the corridor, she gave them her white hand to kiss,

glittering with diamonds, thanking them all for not having

betrayed her, and praying them to keep her still in their favour,

whereat they were all wild with ecstasy; but old Zitsewitz, not

content with her hand, entreated for a kiss on her sweet ruby

lips, which she granted, to the rage and jealousy of all the

others, while he exclaimed, "O Sidonia, thou canst turn even an

old man into a fool!"

And his words came true; for in the evening a dispute arose as to

which of them Sidonia liked best, seeing that she uttered the same

sweet things to all; and to settle it, five of them, along with

the old fool Zitsewitz, went to Sidonia's room, and each in turn

asked her hand in marriage; but she gave them all the same

answer--that she had no idea then of marriage, she was but a

young, silly creature, and would not know her own mind for ten

years to come.

One good resulted from Sidonia's ride upon the stag: her

promenades were forbidden, and she was restricted henceforth

entirely to the women's quarter of the castle. Her Grace and she

had frequent altercations; but with Clara she kept upon good

terms, as the maiden was of so excellent and mild a disposition.

This peace, however, was destined soon to be broken; for though

her Grace was silent in the presence of Sidonia, yet she never

ceased complaining in private to the maids of honour of this

artful wench, who had dared to throw her eyes upon Prince Ernest.

So at length they asked why her Highness did not dismiss the girl

from her service.

"That must be done," she replied, "and without delay. For that

purpose, indeed, I have written to Duke Barnim, and also to the

father of the girl, at Stramehl, acquainting them with my

intention."

Clara now gently remonstrated, saying that a little Christian

instruction might yet do much for the poor young sinner, and that

if she did not become good and virtuous under the care of her

Grace, where else could she hope to have her changed?

"I have tried all Christian means," said her Grace, "but in vain.

The ears of the wicked are closed to the Word of God."

"But let her Grace recollect that this poor sinner was endowed

with extraordinary beauty, and therefore it was no fault of hers

if the young men all grew deranged for love of her."

Here a violent tumult, and much scornful laughing, arose amongst

the other maids of honour; and one Anna Lepels exclaimed--"I

cannot imagine in what Sidonia's wonderful beauty consists. When

she flatters the young men, and makes free with them as they are

passing to dinner, what marvel if they all run after her? Any girl

might have as many lovers if she chose to adopt such manners."

Clara made no reply, but turning to her Grace, said with her

permission she would leave her spinning for a while, to visit

Sidonia in her room, who perhaps would hearken to her advice, as

she meant kindly to her.

"You may go," said her Grace; "but what do you mean to do? I tell

you, advice is thrown away on her."

"Then I will threaten her with the Catechism of Doctor

Gerschovius, which she must repeat on Sunday, for I know that she

is greatly afraid of that and the clergyman."

"And you think you will frighten her into giving up running after

the young men?"

"Oh yes, if I tell her that she will be publicly reprimanded

unless she can say it perfectly."

So her Grace allowed her to depart, but with something of a weak

faith.

Although Sidonia had absented herself from the spinning, on the

pretext of learning the catechism quietly in her own room, yet,

when Clara entered, no one was there except the maid, who sat upon

the floor at her work. She knew nothing about the young lady; but

as she heard a great deal of laughter and merriment in the court

beneath, it was likely Sidonia was not far off. On stepping to the

window, Clara indeed beheld Sidonia.

In the middle of the court was a large horse-pond built round with

stones, to which the water was conducted by metal pipes

communicating with the river Peene. In the middle of the pond was

a small island, upon which a bear was kept chained. A plank was

now thrown across the pond to the island; upon this Sidonia was

standing feeding the bear with bread, which Appelmann, who stood

beside her, first dipped into a can of syrup, and several of the

young squires stood round them laughing and jesting.

The idle young pages were wont to take great delight in shooting

at the bear with blunt arrows, and when it growled and snarled,

then they would calm it again by throwing over bits of bread

steeped in honey or syrup. So Sidonia, waiting to see the fun, had

got upon the plank ready to give the bread just as the bear had

got to the highest pitch of irritation, when he would suddenly

change his growling into another sort of speech after his fashion.

All this amused Sidonia mightily, and she laughed and clapped her

hands with delight.

When the modest Clara beheld all this, and how Sidonia danced up

and down on the plank, while the water splashed over her robe, she

called to her--"Dear Lady Sidonia, come hither: I have somewhat to

tell thee." But she answered tartly--"Dear Lady Clara, keep it

then: I am too young to be told everything." And she danced up and

down on the plank as before.

After many vain entreaties, Clara had at length to descend and

seize the wild bird by the wing--I mean thereby the arm--and carry

her off to the castle. The young men would have followed, but they

were engaged to attend his Highness on a fishing excursion that

afternoon, and were obliged to go and see after their nets and

tackle. So the two maidens could walk up and down the corridor

undisturbed; and Clara asked if she had yet learned the catechism.

_Illa_.--"No; I have no wish to learn it."

_Hæc_.--"But if the priest has to reprimand you publicly from

the pulpit?"

_Illa_.--"I counsel him not to do it."

_Hæc_.--"Why, what would you do to him?"

_Illa_.--"He will find that out."

_Hæc_.--"Dear Sidonia, I wish you well; and therefore let me

tell you that not only the priest, but our gracious lady, and all

the noble maidens of the court, are sad and displeased that you

should make so free with the young men, and entice them to follow

you, as I have seen but too often myself. Do it not, dear Sidonia

I mean well by you;--do it not. It will injure your reputation."

_Illa_.--"Ha! you are jealous now, you little pious

housesparrow, that the young men do not run after you too. How can

I help it?"

_Hæc_.--"Every maiden can help it; were she as beautiful as

could be seen, she can help it. Leave off, Sidonia, or evil will

come of it, particularly as her Grace has heard that you are

seeking to entice our young lord the Prince. See, I tell you the

pure truth, that it may turn you from your light courses. Tell me,

what can you mean by it?--for when noble youths demand your hand

in marriage, you reject them, and say you never mean to marry. Can

you think that our gracious Prince, a son of Pomerania, will make

thee his duchess--thou who art only a common nobleman's daughter?"

_Illa_.--"A common nobleman's daughter!--that is good from

the peasant-girl. You are common enough and low enough, I warrant;

but my blood is as old as that of the Dukes of Pomerania, and

besides, I am a castle and land dowered maiden. But who are you?

who are you? Your forefathers were hunted out of Mecklenburg, and

only got footing here in Pomerania out of charity."

_Hæc_.--"Do not be angry, dear lady--you say true; yet I must

add that my forebears were once Counts in Mecklenburg, and from

their loyalty to the Dukes of Pomerania were given possessions

here in Daber, where they have been lords of castles and lands for

two hundred and fifty years. Yet I will confess that your race is

nobler than mine; but, dear child, I make no boast of my ancestry,

nor is it fitting for either of us to do so. The right royal

Prince, who is given as an example and model to us all--who is

Lord, not over castle and land, but of the heavens and the

earth--the Saviour, Jesus Christ--He took no account of His arms

or His ancestry, though the whole starry universe was His banner.

He was as humble to the little child as to the learned doctors in

the temple--to the chiefs among the people, as to the trembling

sinner and the blind beggar Bartimæus. Let us take, then, this

Prince for our example, and mind our life long what He says--'Come

unto Me, and learn of Me, for I am meek and lowly of heart.' Will

you not learn of Him, dear lady? I will, if God give me grace."

And she extended her hand to Sidonia, who dashed it away,

crying--"Stuff! nonsense! you have learned all this twaddle from

the priest, who, I know, is nephew to the shoe-maker in Daber, and

therefore hates any one who is above him in rank."

Clara was about to reply mildly; but they happened now to be

standing close to the public flight of steps, and a peasant-girl

ran up when she saw them, and flung herself at Clara's feet,

entreating the young lady to save her, for she had run away from

Daber, where they were going to burn her as a witch. The pious

Clara recoiled in horror, and desiring her to rise, said--"Art

thou Anne Wolde, some time keeper of the swine to my father? How

fares it with my dearest father and my mother?"

They were well when she ran away, but she had been wandering now

for fourteen days on the road, living upon roots and wild berries,

or what the herds gave her out of their knapsacks for charity.

_Hæc_.--"What crime wast thou suspected of, girl, to be

condemned to so terrible a death?"

_Illa_.--"She had a lover named Albert, who followed her

everywhere, but as she would not listen to him he hated her, and

pretended that she had given him a love-drink."

Here Sidonia laughed aloud, and asked if she knew how to brew the

love-drink?

_Illa_.--"Yes; she learned from her elder sister how to make

it, but had never tried it with any one, and was perfectly

innocent of all they charged her with."

Here Clara shook her head, and wished to get rid of the

witch-girl; for she thought, truly if Sidonia learns the brewing

secret, she will poison and destroy the whole castleful, and we

shall have the devil bodily with us in earnest. So she pushed away

the girl, who still clung to her, weeping and lamenting. Hereupon

Sidonia grew quite grave and pious all of a sudden, and said--

"See the hypocrite she is! She first sets before me the example of

Christ, and then treats this poor sinner with nothing but cross

thorns! Has not Christ said, 'Blessed are the merciful, for they

shall obtain mercy'? But only see how this bigot can have Christ

on her tongue, but not in her heart!"

The pious Clara grew quite ashamed at such talk, and raising up

the wretch who had again fallen on her knees, said--

"Well, thou mayest remain; so get thee to my maid, and she will

give thee food. I shall also write to my father for thy pardon,

and meanwhile ask leave from her Grace to allow thee to remain

here until it arrives; but if thou art guilty, I cannot promise

thee my protection any longer, and thou wilt be burned here, in

place of at Daber."

So the witch-girl was content, and importuned them no further.

CHAPTER X.

_How Sidonia Wished to learn the mystery of love-potions, but is

hindered by Clara and the young Prince._

When Prince Ernest returned home after an absence of some days,

Sidonia had changed her tactics, for now she never lifted up her

eyes when they met, but passed on blushing and confused, and in

place of speaking, as formerly, only sighed. This turned his head

completely, and sent the blood so quickly through his veins that

he found it a hard matter to conceal his feelings any longer. For

this reason he determined to visit Sidonia in her own room as soon

as he could hit upon a favourable opportunity, and bring her then

a beautiful lute, inlaid with gold and silver, which he had

purchased for her at Grypswald.

Now, it happened soon after, that her Grace and Clara went away

one day into the town to purchase a jerkin for the little Prince

Casimir, who accompanied them. Sidonia was immediately informed of

their absence, and sought out Clara's maid without delay, put a

piece of gold into her hand, and said--

"Send the strange girl from Daber to my room for a few minutes;

she can perhaps give me some tidings of my dear father and family,

for Daber is only a little way from Stramehl. But mind," she

added, "keep this visit a secret, as well from her Grace as from

your mistress Clara; otherwise we shall all be scolded."

So the maid very willingly complied, and brought the witch-girl

directly to Sidonia's little apartment, and then ran to Clara's

room to watch for the return of her Grace in time to give notice.

The witch-girl was quite confounded (as she afterwards confessed

upon the rack) when Sidonia began--

"Thou knowest, Anne, that my entreaties alone obtained thee a

shelter here, for I pitied thee from the first; and from what I

hear, it is certain that her Grace means to deal no better with

thee than thy judges at Daber, therefore my advice is--escape if

thou canst."

_Illa_, weeping.--"Where can I go? I shall die of hunger, or

they will arrest me again as an evil-minded witch, and carry me

back to Daber."

"But do not tell them, stupid goose, that thou hast come from

Daber."

_Illa_.--"But what could she say? Besides, she had no money,

and so must be lost and ruined for ever."

"Well, I shall give thee gold enough to get thee through all

dangers. I give it, mind, out of pure Christian charity; but now

tell me honestly--canst thou really make a love-drink?"

_Illa_.--"Yes; her sister had taught her."

"Is the drink of equal power for men and women?"

_Illa_.--"Yes; without doubt, it would make either mad with

love."

"Has it ever an injurious effect upon them? does it take away

their strength?"

_Illa_.--"Yes; they fall down like flies. Some lose their

memory, others become blind or lame."

"Has she ever tried its effects upon any one herself?"

_Illa_.--"But will the lady betray me?"

"Out, fool! When I have promised thee gold enough to insure thy

escape! I betray thee!"

_Illa_.--"Then she will tell the lady the whole truth. She

did give a love-drink to Albert, because he grew cross, and spent

the nights away from her, and complained if she idled a little, so

that her master beat her. Therefore she determined to punish him,

and a rash came out over his whole body, so that he could neither

sit nor lie for six weeks, and at night he had to be tied to a

post with a hand-towel; but all this time his love for her grew so

burning, that although he had previously hated and beaten her, yet

now if she only brought him a drink of cold water, for which he

was always screaming, he would kiss her hands and feet even though

she spat in his face, and he would certainly have died if his

relations had not found out an old woman who unbewitched him;

whereupon his love came to an end, and he informed against her."

That must be a wonderful drink. Would the girl teach her how to

brew it?

But just then our Lord God sent yet another warning to Sidonia,

through His angel, to turn her from her villainy, for as the girl

was going to answer, a knock was heard at the chamber-door. They

both grew as white as chalk; but Sidonia bethought herself of a

hiding-place, and bid the other creep under the bed while she went

to the door to see who knocked, and as she opened it, so there

stood Prince Ernest bodily before her eyes, with the lute in his

hand.

"Ah, gracious Prince, what brings you here? I pray your Highness,

for the sake of God, to leave me. What would be said if any one

saw you here?"

"But who is to see us, my beautiful maiden? My gracious mother has

gone out to drive; and now, just look at this lute that I have

purchased for you in Grypswald. Will it please thee, sweet one?"

_Illa_.--"Alas, gracious Prince, of what use will it be to

me, when I have no one to teach me how to play?"

"I will teach thee, oh, how willingly, but--thou knowest what I

would say."

_Illa_.--"No, no, I dare not learn from your Highness. Now

go, and do not make me more miserable."

"What makes thee miserable, enchanting Sidonia?"

_Illa_.--"Ah, if your Highness could know how this heart

burns within me like a fire! What will become of me? Would that I

were dead--oh, I am a miserable maiden! If your Highness were but

a simple noble, then I might hope--but now. Woe is me! I must go!

Yes, I must go!"

"Why must thou go, my own sweet darling? and why dost thou wish me

to be only a simple noble? Canst thou not love a duke better than

a noble?"

_Illa_.--"Gracious Prince, what is a poor count's daughter to

your princely Highness? and would her Grace ever consent? Ah no, I

must go--I must go!"

Here she sobbed so violently, and covered her eyes with her hands,

that the young Duke could no longer restrain his feelings. He

seized her passionately in his arms, and was kissing away the

crocodile tears, when lo, another knock came to the door, and

Sidonia grew paler even than the first time, for there was no

place to hide the Prince in, as the witch-wench was already under

the bed, and not even quite hidden, for some of her red petticoat

was visible round the post, and one could easily see by the way it

moved that some living body was in it, for the girl was trembling

with the most horrible fear and fright. But the Prince was too

absorbed in love either to notice all this or to mind the knock at

the door.

Sidonia, however, knew well that it was over with them now, and

she pushed away the young Prince, just as the door opened and

Clara entered, who grew quite pale, and clasped her hands together

when she saw the Duke and Sidonia together; then the tears fell

fast from her eyes, and she could utter nothing but--"Ah, my

gracious Prince--my poor innocent Prince--what has brought you

here?" but neither of them spoke a word. "You are lost," exclaimed

Clara; "the Duchess is coming up the corridor, and has just

stopped to look at her pet cat and the kittens there by the page's

room. Hasten, young Prince--hasten to meet her before she comes a

step further."

So the young lord darted out of the chamber, and found his

gracious mother still examining her kittens, whereupon he prayed

her then to descend with him to the courtyard and look also at his

fine hounds, to which she consented.

The moment Prince Ernest disappeared, Clara commenced upbraiding

Sidonia for her evil ways, which could not be any longer

denied--for had she not seen all with her own eyes?--and she now

conjured her by the living God to turn away from the young Duke,

and select some noble of her own rank as her husband. This could

easily be done when so many loved her; but as to the Prince, as

long as her Grace and Ulrich lived, or even one single branch of

the princely house of Pomerania, this marriage would never be

permitted, let the young lord do or say what he chose.

"Ah, thou pious old priest in petticoats," exclaimed Sidonia, "who

told thee I wanted to marry the Prince? How can I help if he

chooses to come in here and, though I weep and resist, takes me in

his arms and kisses me? So leave off thy preaching, and tell me

rather what brings thee spying to my room?"

Then Clara remembered what had really been her errand, although

the love-scene had put everything else out of her head until now,

and replied--"I was seeking the witch-girl from Daber, for when I

went out with her Grace, I left her in charge of my maid; but as

we returned home by the little garden gate, I slipped up to my

room by the private stairs without any one seeing me, and found my

maid looking out of the window, but no girl was to be seen. When I

asked what had become of her, the maid answered she knew not, the

girl must have slipped away while her back was turned, so I came

here to ask if you had seen the impudent hussy, for I fear if her

wings are not clipped she will do harm to some one."

Here Sidonia grew quite indignant--what could she know of a vile

witch-wench? Besides, she had not been ten minutes there in the

room.

"But perchance the bird has found herself a nest somewhere," said

Clara, looking towards the bed; "methinks, indeed, I see some of

the feathers, for surely a red gown never trembled that way under

a bed unless there was something living inside of it." When the

witch-girl heard this her fright increased, so that, to make

matters worse, she pulled her gown in under the bed, upon which

Clara kneeled down, lifted the coverlet, and found the owl in its

nest. Now she had to creep out weeping and howling, and promised

to tell everything.

But Sidonia gave her a look which she understood well, and

therefore when she stood up straight by the bed, begged piteously

that the Lady Clara would not scold her for having tried to

escape, because she herself had threatened her with being burned

there as well as at Daber, so not knowing where to hide, and

seeing the Lady Sidonia's door open, she crept in there and got

under the bed, intending to wait till night came and then ask her

aid in effecting her flight, for the Lady Sidonia was the only one

in the castle who had shown her Christian compassion.

Hereat Sidonia rose up as if in great rage, and said, "Ha! thou

impudent wench, how darest thou reckon on my protection!" and

seizing her by the hand--in which, however, she pressed a piece of

gold--pushed her violently out of the door.

Now Clara, thinking that this was the whole truth, fell weeping

upon Sidonia's neck, and asked forgiveness for her suspicions.

"There, that will do," said Sidonia,--"that will do, old preacher;

only be more cautious in future. What! am I to poke under my bed

to see if any one is hiding there? You may go, for I suppose you

have often hidden a lover there, your eyes turn to it so

naturally."

As Clara grew red with shame, Sidonia drew the witch-girl again

into the room, and giving her a box on the ear that made her teeth

chatter--"Now, confess," said she, "what I said to the young lord

without knowing that you were listening." So the poor girl

answered weeping, "Nothing but what was good did you say to him,

namely, that he should go away; and then you pushed him so

violently when he attempted to kiss you, that he stumbled over

against the bed."

"See, now, my pious preacher," said Sidonia, "this girl confirms

exactly what I told you; so now go along with you, you hussy, or

mayhap you will come off no better than she has done."

Hereupon Clara went away humbly with the witch-girl to her own

room, and never uttered another word. Nevertheless the affair did

not seem quite satisfactory to her yet. So she conferred with her

betrothed, Marcus Bork, on the subject. For when he carried books

for her Highness from the ducal library, it was his custom to

scrape with his feet in a peculiar manner as he passed Clara's

door; then she knew who it was, and opened it. And as her maid was

present, they conversed together in the Italian tongue; for they

were both learned, not only in God's Word, but in all other

knowledge, so that people talk about them yet in Pomeranian land

for these things.

Clara therefore told him the whole affair in Italian, before her

maid and the witch-girl--of the visit of the young Prince, and how

the girl was lying hid under the bed, and asked him was it not

likely that Sidonia had brought her there to teach her how to brew

the love-drink, with which she would then have bewitched the

Prince and all the men-folk in the castle, and ought she not to

warn her Grace of the danger.

But Marcus answered, that if the witch-girl had been at the castle

weeks before, he might have supposed that Sidonia had received the

secret of the love-potion from her, since every man, old and

young, was mad for love of her--but now he must needs confess that

Sidonia's eyes and deceiving mouth were magic sufficient; and that

it was not likely she would bring a vile damsel to her room to

teach her that which she knew already so perfectly. So he thought

it better not to tell her Highness anything on the subject.

Besides, if the wench were examined, who knows what she might tell

of Sidonia and the young lord that would bring shame on the

princely house of Wolgast, since she had been hid under the bed

all the time, and perhaps only kept silence through fear. It were

well therefore on every account not to let the matter get wind,

and to shut up the wench safely in the witches' tower until the

answer came from Daber. If she were pronounced really guilty, it

would then be time enough to question her on the rack about the

love-drink and the conversation between the young lord and

Sidonia.

So this course was agreed on. It is, however, much to be regretted

that Clara did not follow the promptings of her good angel, and

tell all to her Grace and old Ulrich; for then much misfortune and

scandal would have been spared to the whole Pomeranian land. But

she followed her bride-groom's advice, and kept all secret. The

witch-girl, however, was locked up that very day in the witches'

tower, to guard against future evil.

CHAPTER XI.

_How Sidonia repeated the catechism of Dr. Gerschovius, and how

she whipped the young Casimir, out of pure evil-mindedness._

The Sunday came at last when Sidonia was to be examined publicly

in the catechism of Dr. Gerschovius. Her Grace was filled with

anxiety to see how all would terminate, for every one suspected

(as indeed was the case) that not one word of it would she be able

to repeat. So the church was crowded, and all the young men

attended without exception, knowing what was to go forward, and

fearing for Sidonia, because this Dr. Gerschovius was a stern,

harsh man; but she herself seemed to care little about the matter,

for she entered her Grace's closet as usual (which was right

opposite the pulpit), and threw herself carelessly into a corner.

However, when the doctor entered the pulpit she became more grave,

and finally, when his discourse was drawing near to the close, she

rose up quietly and glided out of the closet, intending to descend

to the gardens. Her Grace did not perceive her movement, in

consequence of the hat with the heron's plume which she wore, for

the feathers drooped down at the side next Sidonia, and the other

ladies were too much alarmed to venture to draw her attention to

the circumstance. But the priest from the pulpit saw her well, and

called out--"Maiden! maiden! Whither go you? Remember ye have to

repeat your catechism!"

Then Sidonia grew quite pale, for her Grace and all the

congregation fixed their eyes on her. So when she felt quite

conscious that she was looking pale, she said, "You see from my

face that I am not well; but if I get better, doubt not but that I

shall return immediately." Here all the maids of honour put up

their kerchiefs to hide their laughter, and the young nobles did

the same.

So she went away; but they might wait long enough, I think, for

her to come back. In vain her Grace watched until the priest left

the pulpit, and then sent two of her ladies to look for the

hypocrite; but they returned declaring that she was nowhere to be

seen.

_Summa_.--The whole service was ended, and her Grace looked

as angry as the doctor; and when the organ had ceased, and the

people were beginning to depart, she called out from her closet--

"Let every one come this way, and accompany me to Sidonia's

apartment. There I shall make her repeat the catechism before ye

all. Messengers shall be despatched in all directions until they

find out her hiding-place."

This pleased the doctor and Ulrich well. So they all proceeded to

Sidonia's little room; for there she was, to their great surprise,

seated upon a chair with a smelling-bottle in her hand. Whereupon

her Grace demanded what ailed her, and why she had not stayed to

repeat the catechism.

_Illa_.--"Ah! she was so weak, she would certainly have

fainted, if she had not descended to the garden for a little fresh

air. She was so distressed that her Grace had been troubled

sending for her, of which she was not aware until now."

"Are you better now?" asked her Grace.

_Illa_.--"Rather better. The fresh air had done her good."

"Then," quoth her Grace, "you shall recite the catechism here for

the doctor; for, in truth, Christianity is as necessary to you as

water to a fish."

The doctor now cleared his throat to begin; but she stopped him

pertly, saying--

"I do not choose to say my catechism here in my room, like a

little child. Grown-up maidens are always heard in the church."

Howbeit, her Grace motioned to him not to heed her. So to his

first question she replied rather snappishly, "You have your

answer already."

No wonder the priest grew black with rage. But seeing a book lying

open on a little table beside her bed, and thinking it was the

catechism of Dr. Gerschovius which she had been studying, he

stepped over to look. But judge his horror when he found that it

was a volume of the _Amadis de Gaul_, and was lying open at

the eighth chapter, where he read--"How the Prince Amadis de Gaul

loved the Princess Rosaliana, and was beloved in return, and how

they both attained to the accomplishment of their desires."

He dashed the book to the ground furiously, stamped upon it, and

cried--

"So, thou wanton, this is thy Bible and thy catechism! Here thou

learnest how to make young men mad! Who gave thee this infamous

book? Speak! Who gave it to thee?"

So Sidonia looked up timidly, and said, weeping, "It was his

Highness Duke Barnim who gave it to her, and told her it was a

merry book, and good against low spirits."

Here the Duchess, who had lifted up her hand to give her a box on

the ear, let it fall again with a deep sigh when she heard of the

old Prince having given her such an infamous book, and lamented

loudly, crying--

"Who will free me from this shameless wanton, who makes all the

court mad? Truly says Scripture, 'A beautiful woman without

discretion is like a circlet of gold upon a swine's head.' Ah! I

know that now. But I trust my messengers will soon return whom I

have despatched to Stettin and Stramehl, and then I shall get rid

of thee, thou wanton, for which God be thanked for evermore."

Then she turned to leave the room with old Ulrich, who only shook

his head, but remained as mute as a fish. Doctor Gerschovius,

however, stayed behind with Sidonia, in order to exhort her to

virtue; but as she only wept and did not seem to hear him, he grew

tired, and finally went his way, also with many sighs and

uplifting of his hands.

A little after, as Sidonia was howling just out of pure

ill-temper, for, in my opinion, nothing ailed her, the little

Prince Casimir ran in to look for his mamma--she had gone to hear

Sidonia her catechism, they told him.

"What did he want with his lady mamma?"

"His new jerkin hurt him, he wanted her to tie it another way for

him; but is it really true, Sidonia, that you do not know your

catechism? I can say it quite well. Just come now and hear me say

it."

It is probable that her Grace and the doctor had devised this plan

in order to shame Sidonia, by showing her how even a little child

could repeat it; but she took it angrily, and, calling him over,

said, "Yes; come--I will hear you your catechism." And as the

little boy came up close beside her, she slung him across her

knee, pulled down his hose, and--oh, shame!--whipped his Serene

Highness upon his princely _podex_, that it would have melted

the heart of a stone. How this shows her cruel and evil

disposition--to revenge on the child what she had to bear from the

mother. Fie on the maiden!

And here my gracious Prince will say--"O Theodore, this matter

surely might have been passed over, since it brings a disrespect

upon my princely house."

I answer--"Gracious Lord and Prince, my most humble services are

due to your Grace, but truth must be still truth, however it may

displease your Highness. Besides, by no other act could I have so

well proved the infernal evil in this woman's nature; for if she

could dare to lay her godless hand upon one of your illustrious

race, then all her future acts are perfectly comprehensible.

[Footnote: Note by Duke Bogislaff XIV.--This is true, and

therefore I consent to let it remain; and I remember that Prince

Casimir told me long afterwards that the scene remained indelibly

impressed on his memory. "For," he said, "the wild eyes and the

terrible voice of the witch frightened me more even than her cruel

hand; as if even there I detected the devil in her, though I was

but a little boy at the time."] When the malicious wretch let the

boy go, he darted out of the room and ran down the whole corridor,

screaming out that he would tell his mamma about Sidonia; but

Zitsewitz met him, and having heard the story, the amorous old

fool took him up in his arms, and promised him heaps of beautiful

things if he would hold his tongue and not say a word more to any

one, and that he would give Sidonia a good whipping himself, in

return for what she had done to him. So, in short, her Grace never

heard of the insult until after Sidonia's departure from court."

Had her Highness been in her apartment, she must have heard the

child scream; but it so happened that just then she was walking up

and down the ducal gardens, whither she had gone to cool her

anger.

Soon after a stately ship was seen sailing down the river from

Penemunde, [Footnote: A town in Pomerania.] which attracted all

eyes in the castle, for on the deck stood a noble youth, with a

heron's plume waving from his cap, and he held a tame sea-gull

upon his hand, which from time to time flew off and dived into the

water, bringing up all sorts of fish, great and small, in its

beak, with which it immediately flew back to the handsome youth.

"Ah!" exclaimed Clara, "there must be the sons of our gracious

Princess! for to-morrow is her birthday, and here comes the noble

bishop, Johann Frederick of Camyn, and his brother, Duke Bogislaff

XIII., to pay their respects to their gracious mother."

Her Grace, however, would scarcely credit that the handsome youth

who was fishing after so elegant a manner was indeed her own

beloved son; but Clara clapped her hands now, crying, "Look! your

Grace--look! there is the flag hoisted!" And indeed there

fluttered from the mast now the bishop's own arms. So the warder

blew his horn, which was answered by the warder of St. Peter's in

the town, and the bells in all the towers rang out, and the

castellan ordered the cannon in the courtyard to be fired off.

Her Grace was now thoroughly convinced, and weeping for joy, ran

down to the little water-gate, where old Ulrich already stood

waiting to receive the princes. As the vessel approached, however,

they discovered that the handsome youth was not the bishop, but

Duke Bogislaff, who had been staying on a visit at his brother's

court at Camyn, along with several high prelates. The bishop,

Johann Frederick, did not accompany him, for he was obliged to

remain at home, in order to receive a visit from the Prince of

Brandenburg.

When the Duke stepped on shore he embraced his weeping mother

joyfully, and said he came to offer her his congratulations on her

birthday, and that she must not weep but laugh, for there should

be a dance in honour of it, and a right merry feast at the castle

on the morrow.

Then he tumbled out on the bridge all the fish which the bird had

caught; and her Grace wondered greatly, and stroked it as it sat

upon the shoulder of the Prince. So he asked if the bird pleased

her Grace, and when she answered "Yes," he said, "Then, dearest

mother, let it be my birthday gift to you. I have trained it

myself, and tried it here, as you see, upon the river. So any

afternoon that you and your ladies choose to amuse yourselves with

a sail, this bird will fish for you as long as you please, while

you row down the river."

Ah, what a good son was this handsome young Duke!--and when I

think that Sidonia murdered them all--all--even this noble Prince,

my heart seems to break, and the pen falls from my fingers.

[Footnote: Note by Duke Bogislaff XIV.--Et quid mihi, misero

filio? Domine in manus tuas commando spiritum meum, quia tu me

redemisti fide Deus! (And what remains to me, wretched son? Lord,

into Thy hands I commend my spirit, for Thou hast redeemed me,

Thou God of truth.)--When one thinks that it was the general

belief in that age that the whole ducal race had been destroyed

and blasted by Sidonia's sorceries, it is impossible not to be

affected by these melancholy yet resigned and Christian words of

the last orphaned and childless representative of the ancient and

illustrious house of Wolgast.]

But to continue. The Duchess embraced the fine young Prince, who

still continued talking of the dance they must have next day. It

was time now for his gracious mother to give up mourning for her

deceased lord, he said.

But her Grace would not hear of a dance; and replied that she

would continue to mourn for her dear lord all the rest of her

life, to whom she had been wedded by Doctor Martinus. However, the

Duke repeated his entreaties, and all the young nobles added

theirs, and finally Prince Ernest besought her Grace not to deny

them permission to have a festival on the morrow, as it was to

honour her birthday. So she at last consented; but old Ulrich

shook his head, and took her Grace aside to warn her of the

scandal which would assuredly arise when the young nobles had

drunk and grew excited by Sidonia. Hereupon her Grace made answer

that she would take care Sidonia should cause no scandal--"As she

has refused to learn her catechism, she must not appear at the

feast. It will be a fitting punishment to keep her a prisoner for

the whole day, and therefore I shall lock her up myself in her own

room, and put the key in my pocket."

So Ulrich was well pleased, and all separated for the night with

much contentment and hopes of enjoyment on the morrow.

CHAPTER XII.

_Of Appelmann's knavery--Item, how the birthday of her Highness

was celebrated, and Sidonia managed to get to the dance, with the

uproar caused thereby._

Before I proceed further, it will be necessary to state what

happened a few days before concerning Prince Ernest's chief

equerry, Johann Appelmann, otherwise many might doubt the facts I

shall have to relate, though God knows I speak the pure truth.

One came to his lordship the Grand Chamberlain--he was a shoemaker

of the town--and complained to him of Appelmann, who had been

courting his daughter for a long while, and running after her

until finally he had disgraced her in the eyes of the whole town,

and brought shame and scandal into his house. So he prayed Lord

Ulrich to make the shameless profligate take his daughter to wife,

as he had fairly promised her marriage long ago.

Now Ulrich had long suspected the knave of bad doings, for many

pearls and jewels had lately been missing from her Grace's

shabrack and horse-trappings, and the groom, who always laid them

on her Grace's white palfrey, knew nothing about them, though he

was even put to the torture; but as Appelmann had all these things

in his sole keeping, it was natural to think that he was not quite

innocent. Besides, three hundred sacks of oats were missing on the

new year, and no one knew what had become of them.

Therefore Ulrich sent for the cheating rogue, and upbraided him

with his profligate courses, also telling him that he must wed the

shoemaker's daughter immediately. But the cunning knave knew

better, and swore by all the saints that he was innocent, and

finally prevailed upon Prince Ernest to intercede for him, so that

Ulrich promised to give him a little longer grace, but then

assuredly he would bring him to a strict account.

And Appelmann drove the Prince that same day to Grypswald, to find

out more musicians for the castle band, as the march of Duke

Bogislaff the Great was to be played by eighty drums and forty

trumpets in the grand ducal hall, to honour the birthday of her

Highness.

One can imagine what Sidonia felt when the Duchess announced that

as she had refused to learn the catechism, and was neither

obedient to God nor her Grace, she should remain a strict prisoner

in her own room during the festival, as a signal punishment for

her ungodly behaviour. But her maid might bring her food of all

that she chose from the feast.

Sidonia first prayed her Grace to forgive her for the love of God,

and she would learn the whole catechism by heart. But as this had

no effect, then she wept and lamented loudly, and at length fell

down upon her knees before her Grace, who would, however, be

neither moved nor persuaded; and when Sidonia threatened at last

to leave her room, the Duchess went out, locked the door, and put

the key in her pocket. The prisoner howled enough then, I warrant.

But what did she do now, the cunning minx? She gave her maid a

piece of gold, and told her to go up and down the corridor, crying

and wringing her hands, and when any one asked what was the

matter, to say, "That her beautiful young lady was dying of grief,

because the Duchess had locked her up, like a little school-girl,

in her own room, and all for not knowing the catechism of Dr.

Gerschovius, which indeed was not taught in her part of the

country, but another, which she had learned quite well in her

childhood. And so for this, her poor young lady was not to be

allowed to dance at the festival." The maid was to say all this in

particular to Prince Ernest; or if he did not pass through the

corridor, she was to stop weeping and groaning at his

chamber-door, until he came out to ask what was the matter.

The maid followed the instructions right well, and in less than an

hour every soul in the castle, down to the cooks and washerwomen,

knew what had happened, and everywhere the Duchess went she was

assailed by old and young, great and small, with petitions of

pardon for Sidonia.

Her Grace, however, bid them all be silent, and threatened if they

made such shameless requests to forbid the festival altogether.

But when Prince Ernest likewise petitioned in her favour, she was

angry, and said, "He ought to be ashamed of himself. It was now

plain what a fool the girl had made of him. Her maternal heart

would break, she knew it would--and this day would be one of

sorrow in place of joy to her; all on account of this girl."

So the young Prince had to hold his peace for this time; but he

sent a message, nevertheless, to Sidonia, telling her not to fret,

for that he would take her out of her room and bring her to the

dance, let what would happen.

Next morning, by break of day, the whole castle and town were

alive with preparations for the festival. It was now seven

years--that is, since the death of Duke Philip--since any one had

danced in the castle except the rats and mice, and even yet the

splendour of this festival is talked of in Wolgast; and many of

the old people yet living there remember it well, and gave me many

curious particulars thereof, which I shall set down here, that it

may be known how such affairs were conducted in old time at our

ducal courts.

In the morning, by ten of the clock, the young princes, nobles,

clergy, and the honourable counsellors of the town, assembled in

the grand ducal hall, built by Duke Philip after the great fire,

and which extended up all through the three stories of the castle.

At the upper end of the hall was the grand painted window, sixty

feet high, on which was delineated the pilgrimage of Duke

Bogislaff the Great to Jerusalem, all painted by Gerard Homer;

[Footnote: A Frieslander, and the most celebrated painter on glass

of his time.] and round on the walls banners, and shields, and

helmets, and cuirasses, while all along each side, four feet from

the ground, there were painted on the walls figures of all the

animals found in Pomerania: bears, wolves, elks, stags, deer,

otters, &c., all exquisitely imitated.

When all the lords had assembled, the drums beat and trumpets

sounded, whereupon the Pomeranian marshal flung open the great

doors of the hall, which were wreathed with flowers from the

outside, and the princely widow entered with great pomp, leading

the little Casimir by the hand. She was arrayed in the Pomeranian

costume--namely, a white silk under-robe, and over it a surcoat of

azure velvet, brocaded with silver, and open in front. A long

train of white velvet, embroidered in golden laurel wreaths, was

supported by twelve pages dressed in black velvet cassocks with

Spanish ruffs. Upon her head the Duchess wore a coif of scarlet

velvet with small plumes, from which a white veil, spangled with

silver stars, hung down to her feet. Round her neck she had a

scarlet velvet band, twisted with a gold chain; and from it

depended a balsam flask, in the form of a greyhound, which rested

on her bosom.

As her Serene Highness entered with fresh and blushing cheeks, all

bowed low and kissed her hand, glittering with diamonds. Then each

offered his congratulations as best he could.

Amongst them came Johann Neander, Archdeacon of St. Peter's, who

was seeking preferment, considering that his present living was

but a poor one; and so he presented her Grace with a printed

_tractatum_ dedicated to her Highness, in which the question

was discussed whether the ten virgins mentioned in Matt. xxv. were

of noble or citizen rank. But Doctor Gerschovius made a mock of

him for this afterwards, before the whole table. [Footnote: Over

these exegetical disquisitions of a former age we smile, and with

reason; but we, pedantic Germans, have carried our modern

exegetical mania to such absurd lengths, that we are likely to

become as much a laughing-stock to our contemporaries, as well as

to posterity, as this Johannes Neander. In fact, our exegetists

are mostly pitiful schoolmasters--word-anatomists--and one could

as little learn the true spirit of an old classic poet from our

pedantic philologists, as the true sense of holy Scripture from

our scholastic theologians. What with their grammar twistings,

their various readings, their dubious punctuations, their

mythical, and who knows what other meanings, their

hair-splittings, and prosy vocable tiltings, we find at last that

they are willing to teach us everything but that which really

concerns us, and, like the Danaides, they let the water of life

run through the sieve of their learning. We may apply to them

truly that condemnation of our Lord's (Matt, xxiii. 24)--"Ye blind

guides; ye strain at a gnat, and swallow a camel."]

Now, when all the congratulations were over, the Duchess asked

Prince Ernest if the water-works in the courtyard had been

completed, [Footnote: The Prince took much interest in hydraulics,

and built a beautiful and costly aqueduct for the town of

Wolgast.] and when he answered "Yes," "Then," quoth her Grace,

"they shall run with Rostock beer to-day, if it took fifty tuns;

for all my people, great and small, shall keep festival to-day;

and I have ordered my court baker to give a loaf of bread and a

good drink to every one that cometh and asketh. And now, as it is

fitting, let us present ourselves in the church."

So the bells rung, and the whole procession swept through the

corridor and down the great stairs, with drums and trumpets going

before. Then followed the marshal with his staff, and the Grand

Chamberlain, Ulrich von Schwerin, wearing his beautiful hat (a

present from her Highness), looped up with a diamond aigrette, and

spangled with little golden stars. Then came the Duchess,

supported on each side by the young princes, her sons; and the

nobles, knights, pages, and others brought up the rear, according

to their rank and dignity.

As they passed Sidonia's room, she began to beat the door and cry

like a little spoiled child; but no one minded her, and the

procession moved on to the courtyard, where the soldatesca fired a

salute, not only from their muskets, but also from the great

cannon called "the Old Aunt," which gave forth a deep joy-sigh.

From all the castle windows hung banners and flags bearing the

arms of Pomerania and Saxony, and the pavement was strewed with

flowers.

As they passed Sidonia's window she opened it, and appeared

magnificently attired, and glittering with pearls and diamonds,

but also weeping bitterly. At this sight old Ulrich gnashed his

teeth for rage, but all the young men, and Prince Ernest in

particular, felt their hearts die in them for sorrow. So they

passed on through the great north gate out on the castle wall,

from whence the whole town and harbour were visible. Here the

flags fluttered from the masts and waved from the towers, and the

people clapped their hands and cried "Huzza!" (for in truth they

had heard about the beer, to my thinking, before the Princess came

out upon the walls). _Summa_: There was never seen such joy;

and after having service in church, they all returned to the

castle in the same order, and set themselves down to the banquet.

I got a list of the courses at the table of the Duchess from old

Küssow, and I shall here set it down, that people may see how our

fathers banqueted eighty years ago in Pomerania; but, God help us!

in these imperial days there is little left for us to grind our

teeth upon. So smell thereat, and you will still get a delicious

savour from these good old times.

_First Course_.--1. A soup; 2. An egg-soup, with saffron,

peppercorns, and honey thereon; 3. Stewed mutton, with onions

strewed thereon; 4. A roasted capon, with stewed plums.

_Second Course_.--1. Ling, with oil and raisins; 2. Beef,

baked in oil; 3. Eels, with pepper; 4. Dried fish, with Leipsic

mustard.

_Third Course_.--1. A salad, with eggs; 2. Jellies strewed

with almond and onion seed; 3. Omelettes, with honey and grapes;

4. Pastry, and many other things besides.

_Fourth Course_.--1. A roast goose with red beet-root,

olives, capers, and cucumbers; 2. Little birds fried in lard, with

radishes; 3. Venison; 4. Wild boar, with the marrow served on

toasted rolls. In conclusion, all manner of pastry, with fritters,

cakes, and fancy confectionery of all kinds.

So her Grace selected something from each dish herself, and

despatched it to Sidonia by her maid; but the maiden would none of

them, and sent all back with a message that she had no heart to

gormandise and feast; but her Grace might send her some bread and

water, which was alone fitting for a poor prisoner to receive.

The young men could bear this no longer, their patience was quite

exhausted, and their courage rose as the wine-cups were emptied.

So at length Prince Ernest whispered to his brother Bogislaus to

put in a good word for Sidonia. He refused, however, and Prince

Ernest was ashamed to name her himself; but some of the young

pages who waited on her Grace were bold enough to petition for her

pardon, whereupon her Grace gave them a very sharp reproof.

After dinner the Duchess and Prince Bogislaus went up the stream

in a pleasure-boat to try the tame sea-gull, and her Grace

requested Lord Ulrich to accompany them. But he answered that he

was more necessary to the castle that evening than a night-watch

in a time of war, particularly if the young Prince was to have

Rostock beer play from the fountains in place of water.

And soon his words came true, for when the Duchess had sailed away

the young men began to drink in earnest, so that the wine ran over

the threshold down the great steps, and the peasants and boors who

were going back and forward with dried wood to the ducal kitchen,

lay down flat on their faces, and licked up the wine from the

steps (but the Almighty punished them for this, I think, for their

children now are glad enough to sup up water with the geese).

Meanwhile many of the youths sprang up, swearing that they would

free Sidonia; others fell down quite drunk, and knew nothing more

of what happened. Then old Ulrich flew to the corridor, and

marched up and down with his drawn dagger in his hand, and swore

he would arrest them all if they did not keep quiet; that as to

those who were lying dead drunk like beasts, he must treat them

like other beasts--whereupon he sends to the castle fountain for

buckets of cold water, and pours it over them. Ha! how they sprang

up and raged when they felt it; but he only laughed and said--if

they would not hold their peace he would treat them still worse;

they ought to be ashamed of their filthiness and debauchery.

[Footnote: Almost all writers of that age speak of the excesses to

which intoxication was carried in all the ducal courts, but

particularly that of Pomerania.]

But now to the uproar within was added one from without, for when

the fountains began to play with Rostock beer, all the town ran

thither, and drank like leeches, while they begged the

serving-wenches to bring them loaves to eat with it. How the old

shoemaker threw up his cap in the air, and shouted--"Long live her

Grace! no better Princess was in the whole world--they hoped her

Grace might live for many years and celebrate every birthday like

this!" Then they would pray for her right heartily, and the women

chattered and cackled, and the children screamed so that no one

could hear a word that was saying, and Sidonia tried for a long

time in vain to make them hear her. At last she waved a white

kerchief from the window, when the noise ceased for a little, and

she then began the old song, namely, "Would they release her?"

Now there were some brave fellows among them to whom she had given

drink-money, or purchased goods from, and they now ran to fetch a

ladder and set it up against the wall; but old Ulrich got wind of

this proceeding, and dispersed the mob forthwith, menacing

Sidonia, before their faces, that if she but wagged a finger, and

did not instantly retire from the window, and bear her

well-merited punishment patiently, he would have her carried

straightway through the guard-room, and locked up in the bastion

tower. This threat succeeded, and she drew in her head. Meantime

the Duchess returned from fishing, but when she beheld the crowd

she entered through the little water-gate, and went up a winding

stair to her own apartment, to attire herself for the dance.

The musicians now arrived from Grypswald, and all the knights and

nobles were assembled except Zitsewitz, who lay sick, whether from

love or jealousy I leave undecided; so the great affair at length

began, and in the state hall the band struck up Duke Bogislaus'

march, played, in fact, by eighty drums and forty-three trumpets,

so that it was as mighty and powerful in sound as if the great

trumpet itself had played it, and the plaster dropped off from the

ceiling, and the picture of his Highness the Duke, in the north

window, was so disturbed by the vibration, that it shook and

clattered as if it were going to descend from the frame and dance

with the guests in the hall, and not only the folk outside danced

to the music, but down in the town, in the great market-place, and

beyond that, even in the horse-market, the giant march was heard,

and every one danced to it whether in or out of the house, and

cheered and huzzaed. Now the Prince could no longer repress his

feelings, for, besides that he had taken a good Pomeranian draught

that day, and somewhat rebelled against his lady mother, he now

flung the fourth commandment to the winds (never had he done this

before), and taking three companions with him, by name Dieterich

von Krassow, Joachim von Budde, and Achim von Weyer, he proceeded

with them to the chamber of Sidonia, and with great violence burst

open the door. There she lay on the bed weeping, in a green velvet

robe, laced with gold, and embroidered with other golden

ornaments, and her head was crowned with pearls and diamonds, so

that the young Prince exclaimed, "Dearest Sidonia, you look like a

king's bride. See, I keep my word; come now, and we shall dance

together in the hall."

Here he would willingly have kissed her, but was ashamed because

the others were by, so he said, "Go ye now to the hall and see if

the dance is still going on. I will follow with the maiden."

Thereat the young men laughed, because they saw well that the

Prince did not just then desire their company, and they all went

away, except Joachim von Budde, the rogue, who crept behind the

door, and peeped through the crevice.

Now, the young lord was no sooner left alone with Sidonia than he

pressed her to his heart--"Did she love him? She must say yes once

again." Whereupon she clasped his neck with her little hands, and

with every kiss that he gave her she murmured, "Yes, yes, yes!"

"Would she be his own dear wife?" "Ah, if she dared. She would

have no other spouse, no, not even if the Emperor came himself

with all the seven electors. But he must not make her more

miserable than she was already. What could they do? he never would

be allowed to marry her." "He would manage that." Then he pressed

her again to his heart, with such ardour that the knave behind the

door grew jealous, and springing up, called out--"If his Highness

wishes for a dance he must come now."

When they both entered the hall, her Grace was treading a measure

with old Ulrich, but he caught sight of them directly, and without

making a single remark, resigned the hand of her Grace to Prince

Bogislaus, and excused himself, saying that the noise of the music

had made his head giddy, and that he must leave the hall for a

little. He ran then along the corridor down to the courtyard, from

thence to the guard, and commanded the officer with his troop,

along with the executioner and six assistants, to be ready to rush

into the hall with lighted matches, the moment he waved his hat

with the white plumes from the window.

When he returns, the dance is over, and my gracious lady,

suspecting nothing as yet, sits in a corner and fans herself. Then

Ulrich takes Sidonia in one hand and Prince Ernest in the other,

brings them up straight before her Highness, and asks if she had

herself given permission for the Prince and Sidonia to dance

together in the hall. Her Highness started from her chair when she

beheld them, her cheeks glowing with anger, and exclaimed, "What

does this mean? Have you dared to release Sidonia?"

_Ille_.--"Yes; for this noble maiden has been treated worse

than a peasant-girl by my lady mother."

_Illa_.--"Oh, woe is me! this is my just punishment for

having forgotten my Philip so soon, and even consenting to tread a

measure in the hall." So she wept, and threw herself again upon

the seat, covering her face with both hands.

Now old Ulrich began. "So, my young Prince, this is the way you

keep the admonitions that your father, of blessed memory, gave you

on his death-bed! Fie--shame on you! Did you not give your promise

also to me, the old man before you? Sidonia shall return to her

chamber, if my word has yet some power in Pomerania. Speak,

gracious lady, give the order, and Sidonia shall be carried back

to her room."

When Sidonia heard this, she laid her white hand, all covered with

jewels, upon the old man's arm, and looked up at him with

beseeching glances, and stroked his beard after her manner,

crying, with tears of anguish, "Spare a poor young maiden! I will

learn anything you tell me; I will repeat it all on Sunday. Only

do not deal so hardly with me." But the little hands for once had

no effect, nor the tears, nor the caresses; for Ulrich, throwing

her off, gave her such a slap in the face that she uttered a loud

cry and fell to the ground.

If a firebrand had fallen into a barrel of gunpowder, it could not

have caused a greater explosion in the hall than that cry; for

after a short pause, in which every one stood silent as if

thunderstruck, there arose from all the nobles, young and old, the

terrible war-cry--"Jodute! Jodute! [Footnote: The learned have

puzzled their heads a great deal over the etymology of this

enigmatical word, which is identical in meaning with the terrible

"_Zettergeschrei_" of the Reformation era. It is found in the

Swedish, Gothic, and Low German dialects, and in the Italian

_Goduta_. One of the best essays on the subject--which,

however, leads to no result--the lover of antiquarian researches

will find in Hakeus's "Pomeranian Provincial Papers," vol. v. p.

207.] to arms, to arms!" and the cry was re-echoed till the whole

hall rung with it. Whoever had a dagger or a sword drew it, and

they who had none ran to fetch one. But the Prince would at once

have struck old Ulrich to the heart, if his brother Bogislaus had

not sprung on him from behind and pinioned his arms. Then Joachim

von Budde made a pass at the old knight, and wounded him in the

hand. So Ulrich changed his hat from the right hand to the left,

and still kept retreating till he could gain the window and give

the promised sign to the guard, crying as he fought his way

backward, step by step, "Come on now--come on, Ernest. Murder the

old grey-headed man whom thy father called friend--murder him, as

thou wilt murder thy mother this night."

Then reaching the window, he waved his hat until the sign was

answered; then sprang forward again, seized Sidonia by the hand,

crying, "Out, harlot!" Hereupon young Lord Ernest screamed still

louder, "Jodute! Jodute! Down with the grey-headed villain! What!

will not the nobles of Pomerania stand by their Prince? Down with

the insolent grey-beard who has dared to call my princely bride a

harlot!" And so he tore himself from his brother's grasp, and

sprang upon the old man; but her Grace no sooner perceived his

intention than she rushed between them, crying, "Hold! hold! hold!

for the sake of God, hold! He is thy second father." And as the

young Prince recoiled in horror, she seized Sidonia rapidly, and

pushing her before Ulrich towards the door, cried, "Out with the

accursed harlot!" But Joachim Budde, who had already wounded the

Grand Chamberlain, now seizing a stick from one of the drummers,

hit her Grace such a blow on the arm therewith that she had to let

go her hold of Sidonia. When old Ulrich beheld this, he screamed,

"Treason! treason!" and rushed upon Budde. But all the young

nobles, who were now fully armed, surrounded the old man, crying,

"Down with him! down with him!" In vain he tried to reach a bench

from whence he could defend himself against his assailants; in a

few moments he was overpowered by numbers and fell upon the floor.

Now, indeed, it was all over with him, if the soldatesca had not

at that instant rushed into the hall with fierce shouts, and

Master Hansen the executioner, in his long red cloak, with six

assistants accompanying them.

"Help! help!" cried her Grace; "help for the Lord Chamberlain!"

So they sprang to the centre of the hall where he was lying,

dashed aside his assailants, and lifted up the old man from the

floor with his hand all bleeding.

But Joachim Budde, who was seated on the very same bench which

Ulrich had in vain tried to reach, began to mock the old knight.

Whereupon Ulrich asked if it were he who had struck her Grace with

the drumstick. "Ay," quoth he, laughing, "and would that she had

got more of it for treating that darling, sweet, beautiful Sidonia

no better than a kitchen wench. Where is the old hag now? I will

teach her the catechism with my drumstick, I warrant you."

And he was going to rise, when Ulrich made a sign to the

executioner, who instantly dropped his red cloak, under which he

had hitherto concealed his long sword, and just as Joachim looked

up to see what was going on, he whirled the sword round like a

flash of lightning, and cut Budde's head clean off from the

shoulders, so that not even a quill of his Spanish ruff was

disturbed, and the blood spouted up like three horse-tails to the

ceiling (for he drank so much that all the blood was in his head),

and down tumbled his gay cap, with the heron's plume, to the

ground, and his head along with it.

In an instant all was quietness; for though some of the ladies

fainted, amongst whom was her Grace, and others rushed out of the

hall, still there was such a silence that when the corpse fell

down at length heavily upon the ground the clap of the hands and

feet upon the floor was quite audible.

When Ulrich observed that his victory was complete, he waved his

hat in the air, exclaiming, "The princely house of Pomerania is

saved! and, as long as I live, its honour shall never be tarnished

for the sake of a harlot! Remove Prince Ernest and Sidonia to

separate prisons. Let the rest go their ways;--this devil's

festival is at an end, and with my consent, there shall never be

another in Wolgast."

CHAPTER XIII.

_How Sidonia is sent away to Stettin--Item, of the young lord's

dangerous illness, and what happened in consequence._

Now the Grand Chamberlain was well aware that no good would result

from having Sidonia brought to a public trial, because the whole

court was on her side.

Therefore he called Marcus Bork, her cousin, to him in the night,

and bid him take her and her luggage away next morning before

break of day, and never stop or stay until they reached Duke

Barnim's court at Stettin. The wind was half-way round now, and

before nightfall they might reach Oderkruge. He would first just

write a few lines to his Highness; and when Marcus had made all

needful preparation, let him come here to his private apartment

and receive the letter. He had selected him for the business

because he was Sidonia's cousin, and also because he was the only

young man at the castle whom the wanton had not ensnared in her

toils.

But that night Ulrich had reason to know that Sidonia and her

lovers were dangerous enemies; for just as he had returned to his

little room, and seated himself down at the table, to write to his

Grace of Stettin the whole business concerning Sidonia, the window

was smashed, and a large stone came plump down upon the ink-bottle

close beside him, and stained all the paper. As Ulrich went out to

call the guard, Appelmann, the equerry, came running up to him,

complaining that his lordship's beautiful horse was lying there in

the stable groaning like a human creature, for that some wretches

had cut its tail clean off.

_Ille_.--"Were any of the grooms in the stable lately? or had

he seen any one go by the window?"

_Hic_.--"No; it was impossible to see any one, on account of

the darkness; but he thought he had heard some one creeping along

by the wall."

_Ille_.--"Let him come then, fetch a lantern, and summon all

the grooms; he would give it to the knaves. Had he heard anything

of her Highness recently?"

_Hic_.--"A maid told him that her Grace was better, and had

retired to rest."

_Ille_.--"Thank God. Now they might go."

But as they proceeded along the corridor, which was now almost

quite dark, the old knight suddenly received such a blow upon his

hat that the beautiful aigrette was broken, and he himself thrown

against the wall with such violence that he lay a quarter of an

hour insensible; then he shook his grey head. What could that

mean? Had Appelmann seen any one?

_Hic_.--"Ah! no; but he thought he heard steps, as if of some

one running away."

So they went on to the ducal stables, but nothing was to be seen

or heard. The grooms knew nothing about the matter--the guard knew

nothing. Then the old knight lamented over his beautiful horse,

and told Appelmann to ride next morning, with Marcus Bork and

Sidonia, to the Duke's castle at Stettin, and purchase the piebald

mare for him from his Grace, about which they had been bargaining

some time back; but he must keep all this secret, for the young

nobles were to know nothing of the journey.

Ah, what fine fun this is for the cunning rogue. "If his lordship

would only give him the purse, he would bring him back a far finer

horse than that which some knaves had injured." Whereupon the old

knight went down to reckon out the rose-nobles--but, lo! a stone

comes whizzing past him close to his head, so that if it had

touched him, methinks the old man would never have spoken a word

more. In short, wherever he goes, or stops, or stands, stones and

buffets are rained down upon him, so that he has to call the guard

to accompany him back to his chamber; but he lays the saddle on

the right horse at last, as you shall hear in another place.

After some hours everything became quiet in the castle, for the

knaves were glad enough to sleep off their drunkenness. And so,

early in the morning before dawn, while they were all snoring in

their beds, Sidonia was carried off, scream as she would along the

corridor, and even before the young knight's chamber; not a soul

heard her. For she had not been brought to the prison tower, as at

first commanded, but to her own little chamber, likewise the young

lord to his; for the Grand Chamberlain thought afterwards this

proceeding would not cause such scandal.

But there truly was great grief in the castle when they all rose,

and the cry was heard that Sidonia was gone; and some of the

murderous lords threatened to make the old man pay with his blood

for it. _Item_, no sooner was it day than Dr. Gerschovius ran

in, crying that some of the young profligates had broken all his

windows the night before, and turned a goat into the rectory, with

the catechism of his dear and learned brother tied round his neck.

Then old Ulrich's anger increased mightily, as might be imagined,

and he brought the priest with him to the Duchess, who had got but

little rest that night, and was busily turning her wheel with the

little clock-work, and singing to it, in a loud, clear voice, that

beautiful psalm (120th)--"In deep distress I oft have cried." She

paused when they entered, and began to weep. "Was it not all

prophesied? Why had she been persuaded to throw off her mourning,

and slight the memory of her loved Philip? It was for this the

wrath of God had come upon her house; for assuredly the Lord would

avenge the innocent blood that had been shed."

Then Ulrich answered that, as her Grace knew, he had earnestly

opposed this festival; but as to what regarded, the traitor whose

head he had chopped off, he was ready to answer for that blood,

not only to man but before God. For had not the coward struck his

own sovereign lady the Princess with the drumstick? _Item_,

was he not in the act of rising to repeat the blow, as the whole

nobility are aware, only he lost his head by the way; and if this

had not been done, all order and government must have ceased

throughout the land, and the mice and the rats rule the cats,

which was against the order of nature and contrary to God's will.

But his gracious lady might take consolation, for Sidonia had been

carried from the castle that morning by four of the clock, and, by

God's grace, never should set foot in it again. But there was

another _gravamen_, and that concerned the young nobles, who,

no doubt, would become more daring after the events of last

evening. Then he related what had happened to the priest.

"_Item_, what did my gracious lady mean to do with those

drunken libertines? If her Grace had kept up the huntings and the

fishings, as in the days of good Duke Philip, mayhap the young men

would have been less given to debauchery; but her Grace kept an

idle house, and they had nothing to do but drink and brew

mischief. If her Grace had no fitting employment for these young

fellows, then he would pack them all off to the devil the very

next morning, for they brought nothing but disrespect upon the

princely house of Wolgast."

So her Grace rejoiced over Sidonia's departure, but could not

consent to send away the young knights. Her beloved husband and

lord, Philippus Primus, always kept a retinue of such young

nobles, and all the princely courts did the same. What would her

cousin of Brandenburg and Mecklenburg say, when they heard that

she had no longer knights or pages at her court? She feared her

princely name would be mentioned with disrespect.

So Ulrich replied, that at all events, this set of young

boisterers must be sent off, as they had grown too wild and

licentious to be endured any longer; and that he would select a

new retinue for her Grace from the discreetest and most

sober-minded young knights of the court. Marcus Bork, however,

might remain; he was true, loyal, and brave--not a wine-bibber and

profligate like the others.

So her Grace at last consented, seeing that no good would come of

these young men now; on the contrary, they would be more daring

and riotous than ever from rage, when they found that Sidonia had

been sent away; and that business of the window-smashing and the

goat demanded severe punishment. So let Ulrich look out for a new

household; these gay libertines would be sent away.

While she was speaking, the door opened, and Prince Ernest entered

the chamber, looking so pale and haggard, that her Grace clasped

her hands together, and asked him, with terror, what had happened.

_Ille._--"Did she ask what had happened, when all Pomerania

rung with it?--when nobles were beheaded before her face as if

they were nothing more than beggars' brats?--when the delicate and

high-born Lady Sidonia, who had been entrusted to her care by Duke

Barnim himself, was turned out of the castle in the middle of the

night as if she were a street-girl, because, forsooth, she would

not learn her catechism? The world would scarcely credit such

scandalous acts, and yet they were all true. But to-morrow (if

this weakness which had come over him allowed of it) he would set

off for Stettin, also to Berlin and Schwerin, and tell the princes

there, his cousins, what government they held in Wolgast. He would

soon be twenty, and would then take matters into his own hands;

and he would pray his guardian and dear uncle, Duke Barnim, to

pronounce him at once of age; then the devil might take Ulrich and

his government, but he would rule the castle his own way."

_Her Grace_.--"But what did he complain of? What ailed him?

She must know this first, for he was looking as pale as a corpse."

_Ille_.--"Did she not know, then, what ailed him? Well, since

he must tell her, it was anger-anger that made him so pale and

weak."

_Her Grace_.--"Anger, was it? Anger, because the false

wanton, Sidonia, had been removed by her orders from her princely

castle? Ah! she knew now what the wanton had come there for; but

would he kill his mother? She nearly sank upon the ground last

night when he called the impudent wench his bride. But she forgave

him; it must have been the wine he drank made him so forget

himself; or was it possible that he spoke in earnest?"

_Ille_ (sighing).--"The future will tell that." "Oh, woe is

me! what must I live to hear? If thy father could look up from his

grave, and see thee disgracing thy princely blood by a marriage

with a bower maiden!--. thou traitorous, disobedient son, do not

lie to me. I know from thy sighs what thy purpose is--for this

thou art going to Stettin and Berlin."

The Prince is silent, and looks down upon the ground.

_Her Grace_.--"Oh, shame on thee! shame on thee for the sake

of thy mother! shame on thee for the sake of this servant of God,

thy second father, this old man here! What! a vile knave strike

thy mother, before the face of all the court, and thou condemnest

him because he avenged her! Truly thou art a fine, brave son, to

let thy mother be struck before thy face, for the sake of a

harlot. Canst thou deny it? I conjure thee by the living God, tell

me is it thy true purpose to take this harlot to thy wife?"

_Ille_.--"He could give but one answer, the future would

decide."

_Her Grace_ (weeping).--"Oh, she was reserved for all

misfortunes! Why did Doctor Martinus let her ring fall? All, all

has followed from that! If he had chosen a good, humble, honest

girl, she would say nothing; but this wanton, this light maiden,

that ran after every carl and let them court her!"

Here the young Prince was seized with such violent convulsions

that he fell upon the floor, and her Grace raised him up with loud

lamentations. He was carried in a dead faint to his chamber, and

the court physician, Doctor Pomius, instantly summoned. Doctor

Pomius was a pompous little man (for my father knew him well), dry

and smart in his words, and with a face like a pair of

nutcrackers, for his front teeth were gone, so that his lips

seemed dried on his gums, like the skin of a mummy. He was withal

too self-conceited and boastful, and malicious, full of gossip and

ill-nature, and running down every one that did not believe that

he (Doctor Pomius) was the only learned physician in the world.

Following the celebrated rules laid down by Theophrastus

Paracelsus, he cured everything with trash--and asses' dung was

his infallible panacea for all complaints. This pharmacopoeia was

certainly extremely simple, easily obtained, and universal in its

application. If the dung succeeded, the doctor drew himself up,

tossed his head, and exclaimed, "What Doctor Pomius orders always

succeeds." But if the wretched patient slipped out of his hands

into the other world, he shook his head and said, "There is an

hour for every man to die; of course his had come--physicians

cannot work miracles."

Pomius hated every other doctor in the town, and abused them so

for their ignorance and stupidity, that finally her Grace believed

that no one in the world knew anything but Doctor Pomius, and that

a vast amount of profound knowledge was expressed, if he only put

his finger to the end of his nose, as was his habit.

So, as I have said, she summoned him to attend the young lord; and

after feeling his pulse and asking some questions respecting his

general health, the doctor laid his finger, as usual, to his nose,

and pronounced solemnly--"The young Prince must immediately take a

dose of asses' dung stewed in wine, with a little of the

_laudanum paracelsi_ poured in afterwards--this will restore

him certainly."

But it was all in vain; for the young Prince still continued day

and night calling for Sidonia, and neither the Duchess nor Doctor

Gerschovius could in any wise comfort him. This afflicted her

Grace almost to the death; and by Ulrich's advice, she despatched

her second son, Duke Barnim the younger, and Dagobert von

Schwerin, to the court of Brunswick, to solicit in her name the

hand of the young Princess Sophia Hedwig, for her son Ernest

Ludovicus. Now, in the whole kingdom, there was no more beautiful

princess than Sophia of Brunswick; and her Grace was filled with

hope that, by her means, the influence of the detestable Sidonia

over the heart of the young lord would be destroyed for ever.

In due time the ambassadors returned, with the most favourable

answer. Father, mother, and daughter all gave consent; and the

Duke of Brunswick also forwarded by their hands an exquisite

miniature of his beautiful daughter for Prince Ernest.

This miniature her Grace now hung up beside his bed. Would he not

look at the beautiful bride she had selected for him? Could there

be a more lovely face in all the German empire? What was Sidonia

beside her, but a rude country girl!--would he not give her up at

last, this light wench? While, on the contrary, this illustrious

princess was as virtuous as she was beautiful, and this the whole

court of Brunswick could testify.

But the young lord would give no heed to her Grace, and spat out

at the picture, and cried to take away the daub--into the fire

with it--anywhere out of his sight. Unless his dear, his beautiful

Sidonia came to tend him, he would die--he felt that he was dying.

So her Grace took counsel with old Ulrich, and Doctor Pomius, and

the priest, what could be done now. The doctor mentioned that he

must have been witch-struck. Then more doctors were sent for from

the Grypswald, but all was in vain--no one knew what ailed him;

and from day to day he grew worse.

Clara von Dewitz now bitterly reproached herself for having

concealed her suspicions about the love-drink from her

Grace--though indeed she did so by desire of her betrothed, Marcus

Bork. But now, seeing that the young Prince lay absolutely at the

point of death, she could no longer hold her peace, but throwing

herself on her knees before her Grace, told her the whole story of

the witch-girl whom she had sheltered in the castle, and of her

fears that Sidonia had learned from her how to brew a

love-philtre, which she had afterwards given to the Prince.

Her Grace was sore displeased with Clara for having kept all this

a secret, and said that she would have expected more wisdom and

discretion from her, seeing that she had always counted her the

most worthy amongst her maidens; then she summoned Ulrich, and

laid the evil matter before him. He shook his head; believed that

they had hit on the true cause now. Such a sickness had nothing

natural about it--there must be magic and witchwork in it; but he

would have the whole land searched for the girl, and make her give

the young lord some potion that would take off the spell.

Now the witch-girl had been pardoned a few days before that, and

sent back to Usdom, near Daber; but bailiffs were now sent in all

directions to arrest her, and bring her again to Wolgast without

delay.

So the wretched creature was discovered, before long, in Kruge,

near Mahlzow, where she had hired herself as a spinner for the

winter, and brought before Ulrich and her Grace. She was there

admonished to tell the whole truth, but persisted in asseverating

that Sidonia had never learned from her how to make a love-drink.

Her statement, however, was not believed; and Master Hansen was

summoned, to try and make her speak more. The affair, indeed,

appeared so serious to Ulrich, that he himself stood by while she

was undergoing the torture, and carried on the _protocollum_,

calling out to Master Hansen occasionally not to spare his

squeezes. But though the blood burst from her finger-ends, and her

hip was put out of joint, so that she limped ever after, she

confessed nothing more, nor did she alter the statement which she

had first made.

_Item_, her Grace, and the priest, and all the bystanders

exhorted her in vain to confess the truth (for her Grace was

present at the torture). At last she cried out, "Yes, I know

something that will cure him! Mercy! mercy! and I will tell it."

So they unbound her, and she was going straightway to make her

witch-potion, but old Ulrich changed his mind. Who could know

whether this devil's fiend was telling them the truth? May be she

would kill the young lord in place of curing him. So they gave her

another stretch upon the rack. But as she still held by all her

assertions, they spared her any further torture.

But, in my opinion, the young lord must have obtained something

from her, otherwise he could not have recovered all at once the

moment that Sidonia was brought back, as I shall afterwards

relate.

_Sum total_.--The young Prince screamed day and night for

Sidonia, and told her Grace that he now felt he was dying, and

requested, as his last prayer upon this earth, to be allowed to

see her once more. The maiden was an angel of goodness; and if she

could but close his dying eyes, he would die happy.

It can be easily imagined with what humour her Grace listened to

such a request, for she hated Sidonia like Satan himself; but as

nothing else could satisfy him, she promised to send for her, if

Prince Ernest would solemnly swear, by the corpse of his father,

that he would never wed her, but select some princess for his

bride, as befitted his exalted rank--the Princess Hedwig, or some

other--as soon as he had recovered sufficiently to be able to quit

his bed. So he quickly stretched forth his thin, white hand from

the bed, and promised his dearly beloved mother to do all she had

asked, if she would only send horsemen instantly to Stettin, for

the journey by water was insecure, and might be tedious if the

wind were not favourable.

Hereupon a great murmur arose in the castle; and young Duke

Bogislaus fell into such a rage that he took his way back again to

Camyn, and his younger brother, Barnim, accompanied him. But the

anger of the Grand Chamberlain no words can express. He told her

Grace, in good round terms, that she would be the mock of the

whole land. The messengers had only just returned who had carried

away Sidonia from the castle under the greatest disgrace; and now,

forsooth, they must ride back again to bring her back with all

honour.

"Oh, it was all true, quite true; but then, if her dearest son

Ernest were to die--"

_Ille_.--"Let him die. Better lose his life than his honour."

_Hæc_.--"He would not peril his honour, for he had sworn by

the corpse of his father never to wed Sidonia."

_Ille_.--"Ay, he was quick enough in promising, but

performing was a different thing. Did her Grace think that the

passion of a man could be controlled by promises, as a tame horse

by a bridle? Never, never. Passion was a wild horse, that no bit,

or bridle, or curb could guide, and would assuredly carry his

rider to the devil."

_Her Grace_.--"Still she could not give up her son to death;

besides, he would repent and see his folly. Did not God's Word

tell us how the prodigal son returned to his father, and would not

her son return likewise?"

_Ille_.--"Ay, when he has kept swine. After that he may

return, but not till then. The youngster was as great a fool about

women as he had ever come across in his life."

_Her Grace_ (weeping).--"He was too harsh on the young man.

Had she not sent away the girl at his command; and now he would

let her own child die before her eyes, without hope or

consolation?"

_Ille_.--"But if her child is indeed dying, would she send

for the devil to attend him in his last moments? Her Grace should

be more consistent. If the young lord is dying, let him die; her

Grace has other children, and God will know how to comfort her.

Had he not been afflicted himself? and let her ask Dr. Gerschovius

if the Lord had not spoken peace unto him."

_Her Grace_.--"Ah, true; but then neither of them are

mothers. Her son is asking every moment if the messengers have

departed, and what shall she answer him? She cannot lie, but must

tell the whole bitter truth."

_Ille_.--"He saw the time had come at last for him to follow

the young princes. He was of no use here any longer. Her Grace

must give him permission to take his leave, for he would sail off

that very day for his castle at Spantekow, and then she might do

as she pleased respecting the young lord."

So her Grace besought him not to leave her in her sore trouble and

perplexity. Her two sons had sailed away, and there was no one

left to advise and comfort her.

But Ulrich was inflexible. "She must either allow her son quietly

to leave this miserable life, or allow him to leave this miserable

court service."

"Then let him go to Spantekow. Her son should be saved. She would

answer before the throne of the Almighty for what she did. But

would he not promise to return, if she stood in any great need or

danger? for she felt that both were before her; still she must

peril everything to save her child."

_Ille_.--"Yes, he would be ready on her slightest summons;

and he doubted not but that Sidonia would soon give her trouble

and sorrow enough. But he could not remain now, without breaking

his knightly oath to Duke Philip, his deceased feudal seigneur of

blessed memory, and standing before the court and the world as a

fool."

So after many tears her Grace gave him his dismissal, and he rode

that same day to Spantekow, promising to return if she were in

need, and also to send her a new retinue and household

immediately.

This last arrangement displeased Marcus Bork mightily, for he had

many friends amongst the knights who were now to be dismissed, and

so he, too, prayed her Grace for leave to resign his office and

retire from court. He had long looked upon Clara von Dewitz with a

holy Christian love, and, if her Grace permitted, he would now

take her home as his dear loving wife.

Her Grace replied that she had long suspected this

betrothal--particularly from the time that Clara told her of his

advice respecting the concealment of the witch-girl's visit to

Sidonia; and as he had acted wrongly in that business, he must now

make amends by not deserting her in her greatest need. Her sons

and old Ulrich had already left her; some one must remain in whom

she could place confidence. It would be time enough afterwards to

bring home his beloved wife Clara, and she would wish them God's

blessing on their union.

_Ille_.--"True, he had been wrong in concealing that business

with the witch-girl, but her Grace must pardon him. He never

thought it would bring the young lord to his dying bed. Whatever

her Grace now commanded he would yield obedience to."

"Then," said her Grace, "do you and Appelmann mount your horses

instantly, ride to Stettin, and bring back Sidonia. For her dearly

beloved son had sworn that he could not die easy unless he beheld

Sidonia once more, and that she attended him in his last moments."

It may be easily imagined how the good knight endeavoured to

dissuade her Highness from this course, and even spoke to the

young Prince himself, but in vain. That same day he and Appelmann

were obliged to set off for Stettin, and on their arrival

presented the following letter to old Duke Barnim:--

"MARIA, BY THE GRACE OF GOD, BORN DUCHESS OF SAXONY, &c.

"ILLUSTRIOUS PRINCE AND MY DEAR UNCLE,--It has not been concealed

from your Highness how our clear son Ernest Ludovicus, since the

departure of Sidonia, has fallen, by the permission of God, into

such a state of bodily weakness that his life even stands in

jeopardy.

"He has declared that nothing will restore him but to see Sidonia

once more. We therefore entreat your Highness, after admonishing

the aforesaid maiden severely upon her former light and unseemly

behaviour, to dismiss her with our messengers, that they may

return and give peace and health to our dearly beloved son.

"If your Highness would enjoy a hunt or a fishing with a tame

sea-gull, it would give us inexpressible pleasure.

"We commend you lovingly to God's holy keeping.

"Given from our Castle of Wolgast, this Friday, April 15, 1569.

"MARIA."

CHAPTER XIV.

_How Duke Barnim of Stettin and Otto Bork accompany Sidonia back

to Wolgast._

When his Highness of Stettin had finished the perusal of her

Grace's letter, he laughed loudly, and exclaimed--

"This comes of all their piety and preachings. I knew well what

this extravagant holiness would make of my dear cousin and old

Ulrich. If people would persist in being so wonderfully religious,

they would soon become as sour as an old cabbage head; and Sidonia

declared, that, for her part, a hundred horses should not drag her

back to Wolgast, where she had been lectured and insulted, and all

because she would not learn her catechism like a little

school-girl."

Nor would Otto Bork hear of her returning. (He was waiting at

Stettin to conduct her back to Stramehl.) At last, however, he

promised to consent, on condition that his Highness would grant

him the dues on the Jena.

Now the Duke knew right well that Otto wanted to revenge himself

upon the people of Stargard, with whom he was at enmity; but he

pretended not to observe the cunning knight's motives, and merely

replied--

"They must talk of the matter at Wolgast, for nothing could be

decided upon without having the opinion of his cousin the

Duchess."

So the knight taking this as a half-promise, and Sidonia having at

last consented, they all set off on Friday with a good south wind

in their favour, and by that same evening were landed by the

little water-gate at Wolgast. His Highness was received with

distinguished honours--the ten knights of her Grace's new

household being in waiting to receive him as he stepped on shore.

So they proceeded to the castle, the Duke having Sidonia upon one

arm, and a Cain under the other, which he had been carving during

the passage, for the Eve had long since been finished. Otto

followed; and all the people, when they beheld Sidonia, uttered

loud cries of joy that the dear young lady had come back to them.

This increased her arrogance, so that when her Grace received her,

and began a godly admonishment upon her past levities, and

conjured her to lead a modest, devout life for the future, Sidonia

replied indiscreetly--"She knew not what her Grace and her parson

meant by a modest, devout life, except it were learning the

catechism of Dr. Gerschovius; from such modesty and devoutness she

begged to be excused, she was no little school-girl now--she

thought her Grace had got rid of all her whims and caprices, by

sending for her after having turned her out of the castle without

any cause whatever--but it was all the old thing over again."

Her Grace coloured up with anger at this bitter speech, but held

her peace. Then Otto addressed her, and begged leave to ask her

Grace what kind of order was held at her court, where a priest was

allowed to slap the fingers of a noble young maiden, and a

chamberlain to smite her on the face? Had he known that such were

the usages at her court of Wolgast, the Lady Sidonia (such he

delighted to call her, as though she were of princely race) never

should have entered it, and he would now instantly take her back

to Stramehl, if her Grace would not consent to give him up the

dues on the Jena.

Now her Grace knew nothing about the dues, and therefore said,

turning to the Duke--"Dear uncle, what does this arrogant knave

mean? I do not comprehend his insolent speech." Hereupon Otto

chafed with rage, that her Grace had named him with such contempt,

and cried--"Then was your husband a knave, too! for my blood is as

noble and nobler than your own, and I am lord of castles and

lands. Come, my daughter; let us leave the robbers' den, or mayhap

thy father will be struck even as thou wert."

Now her Grace knew not what to do, and she lamented loudly--more

particularly because at this moment a message arrived from Prince

Ernest, praying her for God's sake to bring Sidonia to him, as he

understood that she had been in the castle now a full quarter of

an hour. Then old Otto laughed loudly, took his daughter by the

hand, and cried again, "Come--let us leave this robber hole. Come,

Sidonia!"

This plunged her Grace into despair, and she exclaimed in anguish,

"Will you not have pity on my dying child?" but Otto continued,

"Come, Sidonia! come, Sidonia!" and he drew her by the hand.

Here Duke Barnim rose up and said, "Sir Knight, be not so

obstinate. Remember it is a sorrowing mother who entreats you. Is

it not true, Sidonia, you will remain here?"

Then the cunning hypocrite lifted her kerchief to her eyes, and

replied, "If I did not know the catechism of Doctor Gerschovius,

yet I know God's Word, and how the Saviour said, 'I was sick and

ye visited Me,' and James also says, 'The prayer of faith shall

save the sick.' No, I will not let this poor young lord die, if my

visit and my prayer can help him."

"No, no," exclaimed Otto, "thou shall not remain, unless the dues

of the Jena be given up to me." And as at this moment another page

arrived from Prince Ernest, with a similar urgent request for

Sidonia to come to him, her Grace replied quickly, "I promise all

that you desire," without knowing what she was granting; so the

knight said he was content, and let go his daughter's hand.

Now the good town of Stargard would have been ruined for ever by

this revengeful man, if his treacherous designs had not been

defeated (as we shall see presently) by his own terrible death. He

had long felt a bitter hatred to the people of Stargard, because

at one time they had leagued with the Greifenbergers and the Duke

of Pomerania to ravage his town of Stramehl, in order to avenge an

insult he had offered to the old burgomaster, Jacob Appelmann,

father of the chief equerry, Johann Appelmann. In return for this

outrage, Otto determined, if possible, to get the control of the

dues of the Jena into his own hands, and when the Stargardians

brought their goods and provisions up the Jena, and from thence

prepared to enter the river Haff, he would force them to pay such

exorbitant duty upon everything, that the merchants and the

people, in short, the whole town, would be ruined, for their whole

subsistence and merchandise came by these two rivers, and all this

was merely to gratify his revenge. But the just God graciously

turned away the evil from the good town, and let it fall upon

Otto's own head, as we shall relate in its proper place.

So, when the old knight had let go his daughter's hand, her Grace

seized it, and went instantly with Sidonia to the chamber of the

young lord, all the others following. And here a moving scene was

witnessed, for as they entered, Prince Ernest extended his thin,

pale hands towards Sidonia, exclaiming, "Sidonia, ah, dearest

Sidonia, have you come at last to nursetend me?" then he took her

little hand, kissed it, and bedewed it with his tears, still

repeating, "Sidonia, dearest Sidonia, have you come to nursetend

me?"

So the artful hypocrite began to weep, and said--. "Yes, my

gracious Prince, I have come to you, although your priest struck

me on the fingers, and your mother and old Ulrich called me a

harlot, before all the court, and lastly, turned me out of the

castle by night, as if I had been a swine-herd; but I have not the

heart to let your Highness surfer, if my poor prayers and help can

abate your sickness; therefore let them strike me, and call me a

harlot again, if they wish."

This so melted the heart of my gracious Prince Ernest, that he

cried out, "O Sidonia, angel of goodness, give me one kiss, but

one little kiss upon my mouth, Sidonia! bend down to me--but one,

one kiss!" Her Grace was dreadfully scandalised at such a speech,

and said he ought to be ashamed of such words. Did he not remember

what he had sworn by the corpse of his father at St. Peter's? But

old Duke Barnim cried out, laughing--"Give him a kiss, Sidonia;

that is the best plaster for his wounds; 'a kiss in honour brings

no dishonour,' says the proverb."

However, Sidonia still hesitated, and bending down to the young

man, said, "Wait, gracious Prince, until we are alone."

If the Duchess had been angry before, what was it to her rage

now--"Alone! she would take good care they were never to be

alone!"

Otto took no notice of this speech, probably because he saw that

matters were progressing much to his liking between the Prince and

his daughter; but Duke Barnim exclaimed, "How now, dearest cousin,

are you going to spoil all by your prudery? You brought the girl

here to cure him, and what other answer could she give? Bend thee

down, Sidonia, and give him one little kiss upon the lips--I, the

Prince, command thee; and see, thou needst not be ashamed, for I

will set thee an example with his mother. Come, dear cousin, put

off that sour face, and give me a good, hearty kiss; your son will

get well the sooner for it:" but as he attempted to seize hold of

her Grace, she cried out, and lifted up her hands to Heaven,

lamenting in a loud voice--"Oh, evil and wicked world! may God

release me from this wicked world, and lay me down this day beside

my Philip in the grave!" Then weeping and wringing her hands, she

left the chamber, while the old knight, and--God forgive

him!--even Duke Barnim, looked after her, laughing.

"Come, Otto," said his Grace, "let us go too, and leave this pair

alone; I must try and pacify my dear cousin." So they left the

room, and on the way Otto opened his mind to the Duke about this

love matter, and asked his Grace, would he consent to the union,

if Prince Ernest, on his recovery, made honourable proposals for

his daughter Sidonia.

But his Grace was right crafty, and merely answered--"Time enough

to settle that, Otto, when he is recovered; but methinks you will

have some trouble with his mother unless you are more civil to

her; so if you desire her favour, bear yourself more humbly, I

advise you, as befits a subject."

This the knight promised, and the conversation ceased, as they

came up with the Duchess just then, who was waiting for them in

the grand corridor. No sooner did she perceive that Sidonia was

not with them than she cried out, "So my son is alone with the

maiden!" and instantly despatched three pages to watch them both.

Otto had now changed his tone, and instead of retorting, thanked

her Grace for the praiseworthy and Christian care she took of his

daughter. He did not believe this at first, but now he saw it with

his own eyes. Alas, it was too true, the world was daily growing

worse and worse, and the devil haunted us with his temptations,

like our own flesh and blood. Then he sighed and kissed her hand,

and prayed her Grace to pardon him his former bold language--but,

in truth, he had felt displeased at first to see her Grace so

harsh to Sidonia, when every one else at the castle received her

with rapture; but he saw now that she only meant kindly and

motherly by the girl.

Then the Duke asked, her pardon for his little jest about the

kissing. She knew well that he meant no harm; and also that it was

not in his nature to endure any melancholy or lamentable faces

around him.

So her Grace was reconciled to both, and when the Duke announced

that he and the knight proposed visiting Barth [Footnote: Barth, a

little town; and Eldena was at that time a richly endowed convent

near Greifswald.] and Eldena, from whence they would return in a

few days, to take their leave of her, she said that if her dearest

son Ernest grew any better, she would have a grand _battue_

in honour of his Highness Duke Barnim, upon their return.

Accordingly, after having amused themselves for a little fishing

with the tame sea-gull, the Duke and Otto rode away, and her Grace

went to the chamber of the young Prince, to keep watch there

during the night. She would willingly have dismissed Sidonia, but

he forbade her; and Sidonia herself declared that she would watch

day and night by the bedside of the young lord. So she sat the

whole night by his bed, holding his hand in hers, and told him

about her journey, and how shamefully she had been smuggled away

out of the castle by old Ulrich, because she would not learn the

catechism; and of her anguish when the messengers arrived, and

told of their young lord's illness. She was quite certain Ulrich

must have given him something to cause it, as a punishment for

having released her from prison, for if he could strike a maiden,

it was not surprising that he would injure even his future

reigning Prince to gratify his malice. It was well the old

malignant creature was away now, as she was told, and if his Grace

did right he would play him a trick in return, and set fire to his

castle at Spantekow as soon as he was able to move.

Her Grace endured all this in silence, for her dear son's sake,

though in truth her anger was terrible. The young lord, however,

grew better rapidly, and the following day was even able to creep

out of bed for a couple of hours, to touch the lute. And he taught

Sidonia all, and placed her little fingers himself on the strings,

that she might learn the better. Then, for the first time, he

called for something to eat, and after that fell into a profound

sleep which lasted forty-eight hours. During this time he lay like

one dead, and her Grace would have tried to awaken him, but the

physician prevented her. At length, when he awoke, he cried out

loudly, first for Sidonia, and then for some food.

At last, to the great joy of her Grace, he was able, on the fourth

day, to walk in the castle garden, and arranged to attend the hunt

with his dear uncle upon his return to Wolgast. The Duke, on his

arrival, rejoiced greatly to find the young lord so well, and said

with his usual gay manner, "Come here, Sidonia; I have been rather

unwell on the journey: come here and give me a kiss too, to make

me better!" and Sidonia complied. Whereupon her Grace looked

unusually sour, but said nothing, for fear of disturbing the

general joy. Indeed, the whole castle was in a state of jubilee,

and her Grace promised that she and her ladies would attend the

hunt on the following day.

About this time the castle was troubled by a strange

apparition--no other than the spectre of the serpent knight, who

had been drowned some time previously. It was reported that every

night the ghost entered the castle by the little water-gate,

though it was kept barred and bolted, traversed the whole length

of the corridor, and sunk down into the earth, just over the place

where the ducal coaches and sleighs were kept.

Every one fled in terror before the ghost, and scarcely a

lansquenet could be found to keep the night watch. What this

spectre betokened shall be related further on in this little

history, but at present I must give an account of the grand

_battue_ which took place according to her Grace's orders,

and of what befell there.

CHAPTER XV.

_Of the grand battue, and what the young Duke and Sidonia

resolved on there._

The preparations for the hunt commenced early in the morning, and

the knights and nobles assembled in the hall of fishes (so called

because the walls were painted with representations of all the

fishes that are indigenous to Pomerania). Here a superb breakfast

was served, and pages presented water in finger-basins of silver

to each of the princely personages. Then costly wines were handed

round, and Duke Barnim, having filled to the brim a cup bearing

the Pomeranian arms, rose up and said, "Give notice to the warder

at St. Peter's." And immediately, as the great bell of the town

rang out, and resounded through the castle and all over the town,

his Grace gave the health of Prince Ernest, who pledged him in

return. Afterwards they all descended to the courtyard, and his

Grace entered the ducal mews himself, to select a horse for the

day. Now these mews were of such wonderful beauty, that I must

needs append a description of them here.

First there was a grand portico, and within a corridor with ranges

of pillars on each side, round which were hung antlers and horns

of all the animals of the chase. This led to the pond with the

island in the centre, where the bear was kept, as I have already

described. When Duke Barnim and the old knight emerged from the

portico to enter the stable, they were met by Johann Appelmann,

the chief equerry, who spread before the feet of his Highness a

scarlet horse-cloth, embroidered with the ducal arms, whereon he

laid a brush and a riding-whip; and then demanded his

_Trinkgeld_.

On entering, they observed numerous stalls filled with Pomeranian,

Hungarian, Frisian, Danish, and Turkish horses--each race by

itself, and each horse standing ready saddled and bridled since

the morning. _Item_, all along the walls were ranged enormous

brazen lions' heads, which conveyed water throughout the building,

and cleansed the stables completely every day.

Otto wondered much at all this magnificence, and asked his Grace

what could her Highness want with all these horses.

"They eat their oats in idleness, for the most part," replied the

Duke. "No one uses them but the pages and knights of the

household, who may select any for riding that pleases them; but

her Highness would never diminish any of the state maintained by

her deceased lord, Duke Philip. So there has been always, since

that time, particular attention paid to the ducal stables at

Wolgast."

Now the train began to move towards the hunt, in all about a

hundred persons, and in front rode her Grace upon an ambling

palfrey, dressed in a riding-habit of green velvet, and wearing a

yellow hat with plumes. Her little Casimir rode by her side on a

Swedish pony; then followed her ladies-in-waiting, amongst whom

rode Sidonia, all likewise dressed in green velvet

hunting-dresses, fastened with golden clasps; but in place of

yellow, they wore scarlet hats, with gilded herons' plumes. Duke

Barnim and Prince Ernest rode along with her Grace; and though

none but those of princely blood were allowed to join this group,

yet Otto strove to keep near them, as if he really belonged to the

party, just as the sacristan strives to make the people think he

is as good as the priest by keeping as close as he can to him

while the procession moves along the streets.

After these came the marshal, the castellan, and then the

treasurer, with the office-bearers, knights, and esquires of the

household. Then the chief equerry, with the master of the hounds

and the principal huntsmen. But the beaters, pages, lacqueys,

drummers, coursers, and runners had already gone on before a good

way; and never had the Wolgastians beheld such a stately hunt as

this since the death of good Duke Philip. So the whole town ran

together, and followed the procession for a good space, up to the

spot where blue tents were erected for her Grace and her ladies.

The ground all round was strewed with flowers and evergreens, and

before the tents palisades were erected, on which lay loaded

rifles, ready to discharge at any of the game that came that way;

and for two miles round the master of the hunt had laid down nets,

which were all connected together at a point close to the princely

tent.

When the beaters and their dogs had started the animals, he left

the tent to reconnoitre, and if the sport promised to be

plentiful, he ordered the drums to beat, in order to give her

Highness notice. Then she took a rifle herself, and brought down

several head, which was easily accomplished, when they passed upon

each other as thick as sheep. Sidonia, who had often attended the

hunts at Stramehl, was a most expert shot, and brought down ten

roes and stags, whereon she had much jesting with the young lords,

who had not been half so successful. And let no one imagine that

there was danger to her Highness and her ladies in thus firing at

the wild droves from her tent, for it was erected upon a

scaffolding raised five feet from the ground, and surrounded by

palisades, so that it was impossible the animals could ever reach

it.

On that day, there were killed altogether one hundred and fifty

stags, one hundred roes, five hundred hares, three hundred foxes,

one hundred wild boars, seven wolves, five wild-cats, and one

bear, which was entangled in the net and then shot. And at last

the right hearty pleasure of the day began.

For it was the custom at the ducal court for each huntsman, from

the master of the hunt down, to receive a portion of the game; and

her Grace took much pleasure now in seeing the mode in which the

distribution was made. It was done in this wise: each man received

the head of the animal, and as much of the neck as he could cover

with the ears, by dragging them down with all his might.

So the huntsmen stood now toiling and sweating, each with one foot

firmly planted against a stone and the other on the belly of the

beast, dragging down the ears with all his force to the very

furthest point they could go, when another huntsman, standing by,

cut off the head at that point with his hunting-knife.

Then each man let his dog bite at the entrails of a stag, while

they repeated old charms and verses over them, such as:--

"Diana, no better e'er track'd a wood;

There's many a huntsman not half so good."

Or, in Low German:--

"Wasser, if ever the devil you see,

Bite his leg for him, or he will bite me."

These old rhymes pleased the young Casimir mightily: if his lady

mother would only lend him a ribbon, he would lead up little

Blaffert his dog to them, and have a rhyme said over him. So her

Grace consented, and broke off her sandal-tie to fasten in the

little dog's collar, because in her hurry she could find no other

string, and left the tent herself with the child to conduct him to

the huntsmen.

Now the moment her Grace had taken her eyes off Sidonia, and that

all the other ladies had left the tent to follow her and the

little boy, who was laughing and playing with his dog, the young

maiden, looking round to see that no one was observing her,

slipped out and ran in amongst the bushes, and my lord, Prince

Ernest, slipped after her. No one observed them, for all eyes were

turned upon the princely child, who sprang to a huntsman and

begged of him to say a rhyme or two over his little dog Blaffert.

The carl rubbed his forehead, and at last gave out his psalm, as

follows, in Low German:--

"Blaffert, Blaffert, thou art fat!

If my lord would only feed

All his people like to that

'Twould be well for Pommern's need."

[Footnote: Pomerania.]

All the bystanders laughed heartily, and then the hounds were

given their dinner according to the usage, which was this:--A

number of oak and birch trees were felled, and over every two and

two there was spread a tablecloth--that is, the warm skin of a

deer or wild-boar; into this, as into a wooden trencher, was

poured the warm blood of the wild animals, which the hounds lapped

up, while forty huntsmen played a march with drums and trumpets,

which was re-echoed from the neighbouring wood, to the great

delight of all the listeners. When the hounds had lapped up all

the blood, they began to eat up the tablecloths likewise; but as

these belonged to the huntsmen, a great fight took place between

them and the dogs for the skins, which was right merry to behold,

and greatly rejoiced the ducal party and all the people.

In the meantime, as I said, Sidonia had slipped into the wood, and

the young lord after her. He soon found her resting under the

shadow of a large nut-tree, and the following conversation took

place between them, as he afterwards many times related:--

"Alas, gracious Prince, why do you follow me? if your lady mother

knew of this we should both suffer. My head ached after all that

firing, and therefore I came hither to enjoy a little rest and

quietness. Leave me, leave me, my gracious lord."

"No, no, he would not leave her until she told him whether she

still loved him; for his lady mother watched him day and night,

like the dragon that guarded the Pomeranian arms, and until this

moment he had never seen her alone."

"But what could he now desire to say? Had he not sworn by the

corpse of his father never to wed her?"

"Yes; in a moment of anguish he had sworn it, because he would

have died if she had not been brought back to the castle."

"But still he must hold by his word to his lady mother, would he

not?"

"Impossible! all impossible! He would sooner renounce land and

people for ever than his beautiful Sidonia. How he felt, for the

first time, the truth of the holy words, 'Love is strong as

death.'" [Footnote: Song of Solomon viii. 6.] Then he throws his

arms round her and kissed her, and asked, would she be his?

Here Sidonia covered her face with both hands, and sinking down

upon the grass, murmured, "Yours alone, either you or death."

The Prince threw himself down beside her, and besought her not to

weep. "He could not bear to see her tears; besides, there was good

hope for them yet, for he had spoken to old Zitsewitz, who wished

them both well, and who had given him some good advice."

_Sidonia_ (quickly removing her hands).--"What was it?"

"To have a private marriage. Then the devil himself could not

separate them, much less the old bigot Ulrich. There was a priest

in the neighbourhood, of the name of Neigialink. He lived in

Crummyn, [Footnote: A town near Wolgast.] with a nun whom he had

carried off from her convent and married; therefore he would be

able to sympathise with lovers, and would help them."

"But his Highness should remember his kingly state, and not bring

misery on them both for ever."

"He had considered all that, they should therefore keep this

marriage private for a year; she could live at Stramehl during

that period, and receive his visits without his mother knowing of

the matter. At the end of that year he would be of age, and his

own master."

_Sidonia_ (embracing him).--"Ah, if he really loved her so,

then the sooner the better to the church. But let him take care

that evil-minded people would not separate them for ever, and

bring her to an early grave. Had the priest been informed that he

would be required to wed them?"

"Not yet; but if he continued as strong as he felt to-day, he

would ride over to Crummyn himself (for it was quite near to

Wolgast) the moment Duke Barnim and her father quitted the

castle."

"But how would she know the result of his visit? his mother

watched her day and night. Could he send a page or a serving-maid

to her?--though indeed there were none now he could trust, for

Ulrich had dismissed all her good friends. And if he came himself

to her room, evil might be spoken of it."

"He had arranged all that already. There was the bear, as she

remembered, chained upon the little island in the horse-pond, just

under her window. Now when he returned from Crummyn, he would go

out by seven in the morning, before his lady mother began her

spinning, and commence shooting arrows at the bear, by way of

sport; then, as if by chance, he would let fly an arrow at her

window and shiver the glass, but the arrow would contain a little

note, detailing his visit to the priest at Crummyn, and the

arrangement he had made for carrying her away secretly from the

castle. She must take care, however, to move away her seat from

the window, and place it in a corner, lest the arrow might strike

herself."

But then a loud "Sidonia! Sidonia!" resounded through the wood,

and immediately after, "Ernest! Ernest!"

So she sprang up, and cried, "Run, dearest Prince, run as fast as

you are able, to the other side, where the huntsmen are gathering,

and mix with them, so that her Grace may not perceive you." This

he did, and began to talk to the huntsmen about their dogs and the

sweep of the chase, and as her Grace continued calling "Ernest!

Ernest!" he stepped slowly towards her out of the crowd, and asked

what was her pleasure? So she suspected nothing, and grew quite

calm again.

Duke Barnim now began to complain of hunger, and asked her Grace

where she meant to serve them a collation, for he could never hold

out until they reached Wolgast, and his friend Otto also was

growing as ravenous as a wolf.

Her Grace answered, the collation was laid in the Cisan tower,

close beside them, and as the weather was good, his Grace could

amuse himself with the _tubum opticum_, which a Pomeranian

noble had bought in Middelburg from one Johann Lippersein,

[Footnote: An optician, and the probable inventor of the

telescope, which was first employed about the end of the sixteenth

and the beginning of the seventeenth century.] and presented to

her. By the aid of this telescope he would see as far as his own

town of Stettin. Neither the Duke nor Otto Bork believed it

possible to see Stettin, at the distance of thirteen or fourteen

miles, with any instrument. But her Grace, who had heard of Otto's

godless infidelity, rebuked him gravely, saying, "You will soon be

convinced, sir knight; so we often hold that to be impossible in

spiritual matters, which becomes not only possible, but certain,

when we look through the telescope which the Holy Spirit presents

to us, weak and short-sighted mortals. God give to every infidel

such a _tubum opticum_!" The Duke, fearing now that her Grace

would continue her sermon indefinitely, interrupted her in his

jesting way--"Listen, dear cousin! I will lay a wager with you. If

I cannot see Stettin, as you promise, you shall give me a kiss;

but if I see it and recognise it clearly, then I shall give you a

kiss."

Her Grace was truly scandalised, as one may imagine, and replied

angrily--"Good uncle! if you attempt to offer such indignities to

me, the princely widow, I must pray your Grace to leave my court

with all speed, and never to return!" This rebuke made every one

grave until they reached the Cisan tower. This building lay only

half a mile from the hunting-ground, and was situated on the

summit of the Cisanberg, from whence its name. It was built of

wood, and contained four stories, besides excellent stabling for

horses. The apartments were light, airy, and elegant, so that her

Grace frequently passed a portion of the summer time there. The

upper story commanded a view of the whole adjacent country. At the

foot of the hill ran the little river Cisa into the Peen, and many

light, beautiful bridges were thrown over it at different points.

The hill itself was finely wooded with pines and other trees, and

the tower was made more light and airy than that which Duke Johann

Frederick afterwards erected at Friedrichswald, and commanded a

far finer prospect, seeing that the Cisanberg is the highest hill

in Pomerania.

While the party proceeded to the tower, Sidonia rode along by her

father, and to judge from her animation and gestures, she was, no

doubt, communicating to him all that the young lord had promised,

and her hopes, in consequence, that a very short period would

elapse before he might salute her as Duchess of Pomerania.

When they reached the tower, all admired the view even from the

lower window, for they could see the Peen, the Achterwasser, and

eight or nine towns, besides the sea in the distance. I say

nothing of Wolgast, which seemed to lie just beneath their feet,

with its princely castle and cathedral perfectly distinct, and all

its seats laid out like a map, where they could even distinguish

the people walking. Then her Grace bade them ascend to the upper

story, and look out for Stettin, but they sought for it in vain

with their unassisted eyes; then her Grace placed the _tubum

opticum_ before the Duke, and no sooner had he looked through

it than he cried out, "As I live, Otto, there is my strong tower

of St. James's, and my ducal castle to the left, lying far behind

the Finkenwald mountain." But the unbelieving Thomas laughed, and

only answered, "My gracious Prince! do not let yourself be so

easily imposed upon."

Hereupon the Duke made him look through the telescope himself; and

no sooner had he applied his eye to the glass than he jumped back,

rubbed his eyes, looked through a second time, and then

exclaimed--

"Well, as true as my name is Otto Bork, I never could have

believed this."

"Now, sir knight," said her Grace, "so it is with you as concerns

spiritual things. How if you should one day find that to be true

which your infidelity now presumptuously asserts to be false? Will

not your repentance then be bitter? If you have found my words

true--the words of a poor, weak, sinful woman, will you not much

more find those of the holy Son of God? Yes, to your horror and

dismay, you will find His words to be truth, of whom even His

enemies testified that He never lied--Matt. xxii. 16. Tremble, sir

knight, and bethink you that what often seems impossible to man is

possible to God."

The bold knight was now completely silenced, and the good-natured

Duke, seeing that he had not a word to say in reply, advanced to

his rescue, and changed the conversation by saying--

"See, Otto, the wind seems so favourable just now, that I think we

had better say '_Vale_' to our gracious hostess in the

morning, and return to Stettin."

Not a word did his Grace venture to say more about the wager of

the kisses, for his dear cousin's demeanour restrained even his

hilarity. Otto had nothing to object to the arrangement; and her

Grace said, if they were not willing longer to abide at her

widowed court, she would bid them both Godspeed upon their

journey. "And you, sir knight, may take back your daughter

Sidonia, for our dear son, as you may perceive, is now quite

restored, and no longer needs her nursing. For the good deed she

has wrought in curing him, I shall recompense her as befits me.

But at my court the maiden can no longer abide."

The knight was at first so thunderstruck by these words that he

could not speak; but at last drawing himself up proudly, he said,

"Good; I shall take the Lady Sidonia back with me to my castle;

but as touching the recompense, keep it for those who need it."

Sidonia, however, remained quite silent, as did also the young

lord.

But hear what happened. The festival lasted until late in the

night, and then suddenly such a faintness and bodily weakness came

over the young Prince Ernest that all the physicians had to be

sent for; and they with one accord entreated her Grace, if she

valued his life, not to send away Sidonia.

One can imagine what her Grace felt at this news. Nothing would

persuade her to believe but that Sidonia had given him some

witch-drink, such as the girl out of Daber had taught her to make.

No one could believe either that his Highness affected this

sickness, in order to force his mother to keep Sidonia at the

court; indeed, he afterwards strongly asseverated, and this at a

time when he would have killed Sidonia with a look, if it had been

possible, that this weakness came upon him suddenly like an ague,

and that it could not have been caused by anything she had given

him, for he had eaten nothing, except at the banquet at the Cisan

tower.

In short, the young Prince became as bad as ever; but Sidonia

never heeded him, only busied herself packing up her things, as if

she really intended going away with Otto, and finally, as eight

o'clock struck the next morning, she wrapped herself in her mantle

and hood, and went with her father and Duke Barnim to take leave

of her Grace. She looked as bitter and sour as a

vinegar-cruet--nothing would tempt her to remain even for one day

longer. What was her Grace to do? the young lord was dying, and

had already despatched two pages to her, entreating for one sight

of Sidonia! She must give the artful hypocrite good words--but

they were of no avail--Sidonia insisted on leaving the castle that

instant with her father; then turning to Duke Barnim, she

exclaimed with bitter tears, "Now, gracious Prince, you see

yourself how I am treated here."

Neither would the cunning Otto permit his daughter to remain on

any account, unless, indeed, her Grace gave him a written

authority to receive the dues on the Jena. Such shameless knavery

at last enraged the old Duke Barnim to such a degree that he cried

out--"Listen, Otto, my illustrious cousin here has no more to do

with the dues on the Jena than you have; they belong to me alone,

and I can give no promise until I lay the question before my

council and the diet of the Stettin dukedom: be content,

therefore, to wait until then." One may easily guess what was the

termination of the little drama got up by Otto and his fair

daughter--namely, that Otto sailed away with the Duke, and that

Sidonia remained at the court of Wolgast.

CHAPTER XVI.

_How the ghost continued to haunt the castle, and of its daring

behaviour--Item, how the young lord regained his strength, and was

able to visit Crummyn, with what happened to him there.

So Sidonia was again seated by the couch of the young Prince, with

her hand in his hand; but her Grace, as may well be imagined, was

never very far off from them; and this annoyed Sidonia so much,

that she did not scruple to treat the mourning mother and princely

widow with the utmost contempt; at last disdaining even to answer

the questions addressed to her by her Grace. All this the Duchess

bore patiently for the sake of her dear son. But even Prince

Ernest felt, at length, ashamed of such insolent scorn being

displayed towards his mother, and said--

"What, Sidonia, will you not even answer my gracious mother?"

Hereupon the hypocrite sighed, and answered--

"Ah, my gracious Prince! I esteem it better to pray in silence

beside your bed than to hold a loud chattering in your ears.

Besides, when I am speaking to God I cannot, at the same time,

answer your lady mother."

This pleased the young man, and he pressed her little hand, and

kissed it. And very shortly after, his strength returned to him

wonderfully, so that her Grace and Sidonia only watched by him one

night. The next day he fell into a profound sleep, and awoke from

it perfectly recovered.

In the meantime, the ghost became so daring and troublesome, that

all the house stood in fear of it. Oftentimes it would be seen

even in the clear morning light; and a maid, who had forgotten to

make the bed of one of the grooms, and ran to the stables at night

to finish her work, encountered the ghost there, and nearly died

of fright. _Item_, Clara von Dewitz, one beautiful moonlight

night, having gone out to take a turn up and down the corridor,

because she could not sleep from the toothache, saw the

apparition, just as day dawned, sinking down into the earth, not

far from the chamber of Sidonia, to her great horror and

astonishment. _Item_, her Grace, that very same night, having

heard a noise in the corridor, opened her door, and there stood

the ghost before her, leaning against a pillar. She was

horror-struck, and clapped to her door hastily, but said nothing

to the young Prince, for fear of alarming him.

He had recovered, as I have said, in a most wonderful manner, and

though still looking pale and haggard, yet his love for the maiden

would not permit him to defer his visit to Crummyn any longer;

particularly as it lay only half a mile from the castle, but on

the opposite bank of the river, near the island of Usdom.

Thereupon, on the fourth night, he descended to the little

water-gate, having previously arranged with his chief equerry,

Appelmann, to have a boat there in readiness for him, and also a

good horse, to take across the ferry with them to the other side.

So, at twelve o'clock, he and Appelmann embarked privately, with

Johann Bruwer, the ferryman, and were safely landed at Mahlzow.

Here he mounted his horse, and told the two others to await his

return, and conceal themselves in the wood if any one approached.

Appelmann begged permission to accompany his Highness, which,

however, was denied; the young Prince charging them strictly to

hold themselves concealed till his return, and never reveal to

human being where they had conducted him this evening, on pain of

his severe anger and loss of favour for ever; but if they held

their secret close, he would recompense them at no distant time,

in a manner even far beyond their hopes.

So his Highness rode off to Crummyn, where all was darkness,

except, indeed, one small ray of light that glanced from the lower

windows of the cloister--for it was standing at that time. He

dismounted, tied his horse to a tree, and knocked at the window,

through which he had a glimpse of an old woman, in nun's garments,

who held a crucifix between her hands, and prayed.

"Who are you?" she demanded. "What can you want here at such an

hour?"

"I am from Wolgast," he answered, "and must see the priest of

Crummyn."

"There is no priest here now."

"But I have been told that a priest of the name of Neigialink

lived here."

_Illa_.--"He was a Lutheran swaddler and no priest, otherwise

he would not live in open sin with a nun."

"It is all the same to me; only come and show me the way."

_Illa_.--"Was he a heathen or a true Christian?"

His Highness could not make out what the old mother meant, but

when he answered, "I am a Christian," she opened the door, and let

him enter her cell. As she lifted up the lamp, however, she

started back in terror at his young, pale, haggard face. Then,

looking at his rich garments, she cried--

"This must be a son of good Duke Philip's, for never were two

faces more alike."

The Prince never imagined that the old mother could betray him,

and therefore answered, "Yes; and now lead me to the priest."

So the old mother began to lament over the downfall of the pure

Christian doctrine, which his father, Duke Philip, had upheld so

bravely. And if the young lord held the true faith (as she hoped

by his saying he was a Christian), if so, then she would die

happy, and the sooner the better--even if it were this night, for

she was the last of all the sisterhood, all the other nuns having

died of grief; and so she went on chattering.

Prince Ernest regretted that he had not time to discourse with her

upon the true faith, but would she tell him where the priest was

to be found.

_Illa_.--"She would take him to the parson, but he must first

do her a service."

"Whatever she desired, so that it would not detain him."

_Illa_.--"It was on this night the vigil of the holy St.

Bernard, their patron saint, was held; now, there was no one to

light the altar candles for her, for her maid, who had grown old

along with her, lay a-dying, and she was too old and weak herself

to stretch up so high. And the idle Lutheran heretics of the town

would mock, if they knew she worshipped God after the manner of

her fathers. The old Lutheran swaddler, too, would not suffer it,

if he knew she prayed in the church by nights. But she did not

care for his anger, for she had a private key that let her in at

all hours; and his Highness, the Prince, at her earnest prayers,

had given her permission to pray in the church, at any time she

pleased, from then till her death."

So the old mother wept so bitterly, and kissed his Highness's

hand, entreating him with such sad lamentations to remain with her

until she said a prayer, that he consented. And she said, if the

heretic parson came there to scold her, which of a surety he

would, knowing that she never omitted a vigil, he could talk to

him in the church, without going to disturb him and his harlot nun

at their own residence. Besides, the church was the safest place

to discourse in, for no one would notice them, and he would be

able to protect her from the parson's anger besides.

Here the old mother took up the church keys and a horn lantern,

and led the young Prince through a narrow corridor up to the

church door. Hardly, however, had she put the key in the lock,

when the loud bark of a dog was heard inside, and they soon heard

it scratching, and smelling, and growling at them close to the

door.

"What can that dog be here for?" said his Highness in alarm.

"Alas!" answered the nun, "since the pure old religion was

destroyed, profanity and covetousness have got the upper hand; so

every church where even a single pious relic of the wealth of the

good old times remains, must be guarded, as you see, by dogs.

[Footnote: It is an undeniable fact, that the immorality of the

people fearfully increased with the progress of the Reformation

throughout Pomerania. An old chronicler, and a Protestant, thus

testifies, 1542:--"And since this time (the Reformation) a great

change has come over all things. In place of piety, we have

profanity; in place of reverence, sacrilege and the plundering of

God's churches; in place of alms-deeds, stinginess and

selfishness; in place of feasts, greed and gluttony; in place of

festivals, labour; in place of obedience and humility of children,

obstinacy and self-opinion; in place of honour and veneration for

the priesthood, contempt for the priest and the church ministers.

So that one might justly assert that the preaching of the

evangelism had made the people worse in place of better."

Another Protestant preacher, John Borkmann, asserts, 1560:--"As

for sin, it overflows all places and all stations. It is growing

stronger in all offices, in all trades, in all employments, in

every station of life--what shall I say more?--in every

individual"--and so on. I would therefore recommend the blind

eulogists of the good old times to examine history for themselves,

and not to place implicit belief either in the pragmatical

representations of the old and new Lutherans."] And she had herself

locked up her pretty dog Störteback [Footnote: The name of a

notorious northern pirate.] here, that no one might rob the altar

of the golden candlesticks and the little jewels, at least as long

as she lived."

So she desired Störteback to lie still, and then entered the

church with the Prince, who lit the altar candles for her, and

then looked round with wonder on the silver lamps, the golden pix

and caps, and other vessels adorned with jewels, used by the

Papists in their ceremonies.

The old mother, meanwhile, took off her white garment and black

scapulary, and being thus naked almost to the waist, descended

into a coffin, which was lying in a corner beside the altar. Here

she groped till she brought up a crucifix, and a scourge of

knotted cords. Then she kneeled down within the coffin, lashing

herself with one hand till the blood flowed from her shoulders,

and with the other holding up the crucifix, which she kissed from

time to time, whilst she recited the hymn of the holy St.

Bernard:--

"Salve caput cruentatum,

Totum spinis coronatum,

Conquassatum, vulneratum,

Arundine verberatum

Facie sputis illita."

When she had thus prayed, and scourged herself a while, she

extended the crucifix with her bleeding arm to the Prince, and

prayed him, for the sake of God, to have compassion on her, and so

would the bleeding Saviour and all the saints have compassion upon

him at the last day. And when his Highness asked her what he could

do for her, she besought him to bring her a priest from Grypswald,

who could break the Lord's body once more for her, and give her

the last sacrament of extreme unction here in her coffin. Then

would she never wish to leave it, but die of joy if this only was

granted to her.

So the Prince promised to fulfil her wishes; whereupon she

crouched down again in the coffin, and recommenced the scourging,

while she repeated with loud sobs and groans the two last verses

of the hymn. Scarcely had she ended when a small side-door opened,

and the dog Störteback began to bark vociferously.

"What!" exclaimed a voice, "is that old damned Catholic witch at

her mummeries, and burning my good wax candles all for nothing?"

And, silencing the dog, a man stepped forward hastily, but, seeing

the Prince, paused in astonishment. Whereupon the old mother

raised herself up out of the coffin, and said, "Did I not tell

your Grace that you would see the hardhearted heretic here?--that

is the man you seek." So the Prince brought him into the choir,

and told him that he was Prince Ernest Ludovicus, and came here to

request that he would privately wed him on the following night,

without knowledge of any human being, to his beloved and affianced

bride, Sidonia von Bork.

The priest, however, did not care to mix himself up with such a

business, seeing that he feared Ulrich mightily; but his Grace

promised him a better living at the end of the year, if he would

undertake to serve him now.

To which the priest answered--"Who knows if your Highness will be

alive by the end of the year, for you look as pale as a corpse?"

"He never felt better in his life. He had been ill lately, but now

was as sound as a fish. Would he not marry him?"

_Hic_.--"Certainly not; unless he received a handsome

consideration. He had a wife and dear children; what would become

of them if he incurred the displeasure of that stern Lord

Chamberlain and of the princely widow?"

"But could he not bring his family to Stettin; for he and his

young bride intended to fly there, and put themselves under the

protection of his dear uncle, Duke Barnim?"

_Hic_.--"It was a dangerous business; still, if his Highness

gave him a thousand gulden down, and a written promise, signed and

sealed, that he would provide him with a better living before the

year had expired, why, out of love for the young lord, he would

consent to peril himself and his family; but his Highness must not

think evil of him for demanding the thousand gulden paid down

immediately, for how were his dear wife and children to be

supported through the long year otherwise?"

His Highness, however, considered the sum too large, and said that

his gracious mother had scarcely more a year for herself than a

thousand gulden--she that was the Duchess of Pomerania.

However, they finally agreed upon four hundred gulden; for his

Highness showed him that Doctor Luther himself had only four

hundred gulden a year, and surely he would not require more than

the great _reformator ecclesia_.

So everything was arranged at last, the priest promising to

perform the ceremony on the third night from that; "For some

time," he said, "would be necessary to collect people to assist

them in their flight, and money must be distributed; but his

Highness would, of course, repay all that he expended in his

behalf, and further promise to give him and his family free

quarters when they reached Stettin."

After the ceremony, they could reach the boat through the convent

garden, and sail away to Warte. [Footnote: A town near Usdom.]

Then he would have four or five peasants in waiting, with

carriages ready, to escort them to East Clune, from whence they

could take another boat and cross the Haff into Stettin; for, as

they could not reckon on a fair wind with any certainty, it was

better to perform the journey half by land and half by water;

besides, the fishermen whom he intended to employ were not

accustomed to sail up the Peen the whole way into the Haff, for

their little fishing-smacks were too slight to stand a strong

current.

Hereupon the Prince answered, that, since it was necessary, he

would wait until the third night, when the priest should have

everything in readiness, but meanwhile should confide the secret

to no one. So he turned away, and comforted the old mother again

with his promises as he passed out.

The next morning, having written all down for Sidonia, and

concealed the note in an arrow, he went forth as he had arranged,

and began to tease the bear by shooting arrows at him, till the

beast roared and shook his chain. Then, perceiving that Sidonia

had observed him from the window, he watched a favourable

opportunity, and shot the arrow up, right through her window, so

that the pane of glass rattled down upon the floor. In the billet

therein concealed he explained the whole plan of escape; and asked

her to inform him, in return, how she could manage to come to him

on the third night. Would his dearest Sidonia put on the dress of

a page? He could bring it to her little chamber himself the next

night. She must write a little note in answer, and conceal it in

the arrow as he had done, then throw it out of the window, and he

would be on the watch to pick it up.

So Sidonia replied to him that she was content; but, as regarded

the page's dress, he must leave it, about ten o'clock the next

night, upon the beer-barrel in the corridor, but not attempt to

bring it himself to her chamber. Concerning the manner in which

she was to meet him on the third night, had he forgotten that the

old castellan barred and bolted all that wing of the castle by

eleven o'clock, so that she could never leave the corridor by the

usual way; but there was a trapdoor near her little chamber which

led down into the ducal stables, and this door no one ever thought

of or minded--it was never bolted night or day, and was quite

large enough for a man to creep through. Her dear Prince might

wait for her, by that trap-door, at eleven o'clock on the

appointed night. He could not mistake it, for the large basket lay

close behind, in which her Grace kept her darling little kittens;

from thence they could easily get into the outer courtyard, which

was never locked, and, after that, go where they pleased. If he

approved of this arrangement, let him shoot another arrow into her

room; but, above all things, he was to keep at a distance from her

during the day, that her Grace might not suspect anything.

Having thrown the arrow out of the window, and received another in

answer from the Prince, which the artful hypocrite flung out as if

in great anger, she ran to Clara's room, and complained bitterly

how the young lord had broken her window, because, forsooth, he

must be shooting arrows at the bear; and so she had to come into

her room out of the cold air, until the glazier came to put in the

glass. When Clara asked how she could be so angry with the young

Prince--did she not love him any longer?--Sidonia replied, that

truly she had grown very tired of him, for he did nothing but sigh

and groan whenever he came near her, like an asthmatic old woman,

and had grown as thin and dry as a baked plum. There was nothing

very lovable about him now. Would to Heaven that he were quite

well, and she would soon bid farewell to the castle and every one

in it; but the moment she spoke of going his sickness returned, so

that she was obliged to remain, which was much against her

inclination; and this she might tell Clara in confidence, because

she had always been her truest friend.

Then she pretended to weep, and cursed her beauty, which had

brought her nothing but unhappiness; thereupon the tender-hearted

Clara began to comfort her, and kissed her; and the moment Sidonia

left her to get the glass mended, Clara ran to her Grace to tell

her the joyful tidings; but, alas! that very day the wickedness of

the artful maiden was brought to light. For what happened in the

afternoon? See, the nun of Crummyn steps out of a boat at the

little water-gate, and places herself in a corner of the

courtyard, where the people soon gather round in a crowd, to laugh

at her white garments and black scapulary; and the boys begin to

pelt the poor old mother with stones, and abuse her, calling her

the old Papist witch; but by good fortune the castellan comes by,

and commands the crowd to leave off tormenting her, and then asks

her business.

_Illa._--"She must speak instantly to her Grace the princely

widow."

So the old man brings her to her Grace, with whom Clara was still

conversing, and the old nun, after she had kneeled to the Duchess

and kissed her hand, began to relate how her young lord, Prince

Ernest, had been with her the night before, while she was keeping

the _vigilia_ of holy St. Bernard to the best of her ability,

and had urgently demanded to see the Lutheran priest named

Neigialink, and that when this same priest came into the church to

scold her, as was his wont, he and the Prince had retired into the

choir, and there held a long conversation which she did not

comprehend. But the priest's mistress had told her the whole

business this morning, under a promise of secrecy--namely, that

the priest, her leman, had promised to wed Prince Ernest

privately, on the third night from that, to a certain young damsel

named Sidonia von Bork. That the Prince had given him a thousand

gulden for his services, and a promise of a rich living when he

succeeded to the government, so that in future she could live as

grand as an abbess, and have what beautiful horses she chose from

the ducal stables.

"And this," said the nun, "was told me by the priest's mistress;

but as I have a true Pomeranian heart, although, indeed, the

Prince has left the good old religion, I could not rest in peace

until I stepped into a boat, weak and old as I am, and sailed off

here direct to inform your Grace of the plot." She only asked one

favour in return for her service. It was that her Grace would

permit her to end the rest of her days peaceably in the cloister,

and protect her from the harshness of the Lutheran priests and the

fury of the mob, who fell on her like mad dogs here in the castle

court, and would have torn her to pieces if the castellan had not

come by and rescued her. But above all, she requested and prayed

her Grace to permit a true priest to come to her from Grypswald,

who could give her the holy Eucharist, and prepare her for death.

But her Grace was struck dumb by astonishment and alarm, and Clara

could not speak either, only wrung her hands in anguish. And her

Grace continued to walk up and down the room weeping bitterly,

until at last she sat down before her desk to indite a note to old

Ulrich, praying for his presence without delay, and straightway

despatched the chief equerry, Appelmann, with it to Spantekow.

The old nun still continued crying, would not her Grace send her a

priest? But her Grace refused; for in fact she was a stern

upholder of the pure doctrine. Anything else the old mother

demanded she might have, but with the abominations of Popery her

Grace would have nothing to do. Still the old nun prayed and

writhed at her feet, crying and groaning, "For the love of God, a

priest! for the love of God, a priest!" but her Grace drew herself

up stiff and stern, and let the old woman writhe there unheeded,

until at length she motioned to Clara to have her removed to the

courtyard, where the poor creature leaned up against the pump in

bitter agony, and drew forth a crucifix from her bosom, kissed it,

and looking up to heaven, cried, "Jesu! Jesu! art Thou come at

last?" and then dropped down dead upon the pavement, which the

crowd no sooner observed than they gathered round the corpse,

screaming out, "The devil has carried her off! See! the devil has

carried off the old Papist witch!" Hearing the uproar, her Grace

descended, as did also the young lord and Sidonia, who both

appeared as if they knew nothing at all about the old nun. And her

Grace commanded that the executioner should by no means drag away

the body, as the people demanded, who were now rushing to the spot

from all quarters of the town, but that it should be decently

lifted into the boat and conveyed back again to Crummyn, there to

be interred with the other members of the sisterhood at the

cloister.

No word did she speak, either to her undutiful son or to Sidonia,

about what she had heard; only when the latter asked her what the

nun came there for, she answered coldly, "For a Popish priest."

Hereupon the young Prince was filled with joy, concluding that

nothing had been betrayed as yet. And it was natural the old nun

should come with this request, seeing that she had made the same

to him. Her Grace also strictly charged Clara to observe a

profound silence upon all they had heard, until the old

chamberlain arrived, and this she promised.

CHAPTER XVII.

_Of Ulrich's counsels--Item, how Clara von Dewitz came upon the

track of the ghost._

At eleven o'clock that same night, the good and loyal Lord Ulrich

arrived at the castle with Appelmann, from Spantekow, and just

waited to change his travelling dress before he proceeded to the

apartment of her Grace. He found her seated with Clara and another

maiden, weeping bitterly. Dr. Gerschovius was also present. When

the old man entered, her Grace's lamentations became yet

louder--alas! how she was afflicted! Who could have believed that

all this had come upon her because the devil, out of malice, had

made Dr. Luther drop her wedding-ring at the bridal! And when the

knight asked in alarm what had happened, she replied that tears

prevented her speaking, but Dr. Gerschovius would tell him all.

So the doctor related the whole affair, from the declaration of

the old nun to the hypocritical conduct of Sidonia towards Clara

von Dewitz, upon which the old knight shook his head, and said,

"Did I not counsel your Grace to let the young lord die, in God's

name, for better is it to lose life than honour. Had he died then,

so would the Almighty have raised him pure and perfect at the last

day, but now he is growing daily in wickedness as a young wolf in

ferocity."

Then her Grace made answer, the past could not now be recalled;

and that she was ready to answer before God for what she had done

through motherly love and tenderness. They must now advise her how

to save her infatuated son from the snares of this wanton. Dr.

Gerschovius, thereupon, gave it as his opinion that they should

each be placed in strict confinement for the next fourteen days,

during which time he would visit and admonish them twice a day, by

which means he hoped soon to turn their hearts to God.

Here old Ulrich laughed outright, and asked the doctor, was he

still bent upon teaching Sidonia her catechism? As to the young

lord, no admonition would do him good now; he was thoroughly

bewitched by the girl, and though he made a hundred promises to

give her up, would never hold one of them. Alas! alas! that the

son of good Duke Philip should be so degenerate.

But her Grace wept bitterly, and said, that never was there a more

obedient, docile, and amiable child than her dear Ernest; skilled

in all the fine arts, and gifted by nature with all that could

ensure a mother's love. "But how does all this help him now?"

cried Ulrich. "It is with a good heart as with a good ship, unless

you guide it, it will run aground--stand by the helm, or the best

ship will be lost. What had the country to expect from a Prince

who would die, forsooth? unless his mistress sat by his bedside?

Ah! if he could only have followed the funeral of the young lord,

he would have given a hundred florins to the poor that very day!"

"It was not her son's fault--that base hypocrite had caused it all

by some hell magic."

_Ille_.--"That was quite impossible; however, he would

believe it to please her Grace."

"Then let him speak his opinion, if the counsel of Dr. Gerschovius

did not please him."

_Ille_.--"His advice, then, was to keep quiet until the third

night, then secretly place a guard round the castle and at the

wing, and when the bridal party met, take them out prisoners, send

my young lord to the tower, but disgrace Sidonia publicly, and

send her off where she pleased--to the fiend, if she liked."

"Then they would have the same old scene over again; her son would

fall sick, and Sidonia could not be brought back to cure him, if

once she had been publicly disgraced before all the people. So

matters would be worse than ever."

Hereupon old Ulrich fell into such a rage that he cursed and

swore, that her Grace treated him no better than a fool, to bring

him hither from Spantekow, and then refuse to take his advice. As

to Sidonia, her Grace had already brought disgrace upon her

princely house, by first turning her out, and then praying her to

come back before three days had elapsed. All Pomerania talked of

it, and old Otto Bork did not scruple to brag and boast

everywhere, that her Grace had no peace or rest from her

conscience until she had asked forgiveness from the Lady Sidonia

(as the vain old knave called her) and entreated her to return.

Now if she took the advice of Doctor Gerschovius, and first

imprisoned and then turned away Sidonia, no one would believe in

her story of the intended marriage, but look on her conduct as

only a confirmation of all the hard treatment which her Grace was

reported to have employed towards the girl; whereas if she only

waited till the whole bridal party were ready to start, and then

arrested Sidonia, her Grace was justified before the whole world,

for what greater fault could be committed than thus to entrap the

young Prince into a secret marriage, and run away with him by

night from the castle? Let her Grace then send for the

executioner, and let him give Sidonia a public whipping before all

the people. No one would think the punishment too hard, for

seducing a Prince of Pomerania into a marriage with her.

So the princely widow of Duke Philip will be justified before all

the world; and when the young lord sees his bride so disgraced, he

will assuredly be right willing to give her up; even if he fall

sick, it is impossible that he could send for a maiden to sit by

his bed who had been publicly whipped by the executioner. Those

were stern measures, perhaps, but a branch of the old Pomeranian

tree was decayed; it must be lopped, or the whole tree itself

would soon fall.

When the Grand Chamberlain ceased speaking, her Grace considered

the matter well, and finally pronounced that she would follow his

advice, whereupon, as the night waxed late, she dismissed the

party to their beds, retaining only Clara with her for a little

longer.

But a strange thing happened as she, too, finally quitted her

Grace, and proceeded along the corridor to her own little

apartment--and here let every one consider how the hand of God is

in everything, and what great events He can bring forth from the

slightest causes, as a great oak springs up from a little acorn.

For as the maiden walked along, her sandal became unfastened, and

tripped her, so that she nearly fell upon her face, whereupon she

paused, and placing her foot upon a beer-barrel that stood against

the wall not far from Sidonia's chamber, began to fasten it, but

lo! just at that moment the head of the ghost appeared rising

through the trap-door, and looked round, then, as if aware of her

presence, drew back, and she heard a noise as if it had jumped

down on the earth beneath. She was horribly frightened, and crept

trembling to her bed; but then on reflecting over this apparition

of the serpent knight, it came into her head that it could not be

a ghost, since it came down on the ground with such a heavy jump;

she prayed to God, therefore, to help her in discovering this

matter, and as she could not sleep, rose before the first glimmer

of daylight to examine this hole which lay so close to Sidonia's

chamber, and there truly she discovered the trap-door, and having

opened, found that it lay right over a large coach in the ducal

stables; thereupon she concluded that the ghost was no other than

the Prince himself who thus visited Sidonia.

Then she remembered that the ghost had been particularly active

while the young Prince lay sick on his bed watched by his mother;

so to make the matter clearer she went the next evening into the

stables, and observing the coach, which lay just beneath the hole,

sprinkled fine ash-dust all round it. Then returning to her room,

she waited until it grew quite dark, and as ten o'clock struck and

all the doors of the corridor leading to the women's apartments

were barred and bolted, she wrapped herself in a black mantle and

stole out with a palpitating heart into the gallery. Remembering

the large beer-barrel near Sidonia's room, she crouched down

behind it, and from thence had a distinct view of the trap-door,

and also of Sidonia's chamber. There she waited for about an hour,

when she perceived the young Prince coming, but not through the

trap-door. He knocked lightly at Sidonia's door, who opened it

instantly, and they held a long whispering conversation together.

He had brought her the page's dress, and there was nothing to be

feared now, for he had examined the trap and found they could

easily get out through it on the top of the coach, and from thence

into the stables. After that the way was clear. Surely some good

angel had put the idea into her head. Then he kissed her tenderly.

_Illa_.--"What did the old nun come for? Could she have

betrayed them?"

_Hic_.--"Impossible. She did not know a syllable of their

affairs, and had come to ask his lady mother to send her a Popish

priest, as she had asked himself." Then he kissed her again, but

she tore herself from his arms, threw the little bundle into the

room, and shut the door in his face. Whereupon the young Prince

went his way, sighing as if his heart would break.

Now Clara concluded, with reason, that the young lord was not the

ghost, inasmuch as he did not creep through the trap-door, nor did

he wear helmet or cuirass, or any sort of disguise. But when she

heard Sidonia talk with such knowledge of the trap-door, she

guessed there was some knavery in the matter, and though she sat

the night there she was determined to watch. And behold! at twelve

o'clock there was a great clattering heard below, and presently a

helmet appeared rising through the hole, and then the entire

figure of the ghost clambered up through it, and after cautiously

looking round it, approached Sidonia's door, and knocked lightly.

Immediately she opened it herself, admitted the ghost, and Clara

heard her drawing the bolts of the door within.

The pious and chaste maiden felt ready to faint with shame; for it

was now evident that Sidonia deceived the poor young Prince as

well as every one else, and that this ghost whom she admitted must

be a favoured lover. She resolved to watch until he came out. But

it was about the dawn of morning before he again appeared, and

took his hellish path down through the trap-door, in the same way

as he had risen. But to make all certain she took a brush, and

before it was quite day, descended to the stables, where, indeed,

she observed large, heavy footprints in the ashes all round the

coach, quite unlike those which the delicate little feet of his

Highness would have made. So she swept them all clean away to

avoid exciting any suspicion, and crept back noiselessly to her

little room. Then waiting till the morning was somewhat advanced,

she despatched her maid on some errand into the town, in order to

get rid of her, and then watched anxiously for her bridegroom,

Marcus Bork, who always passed her door going to his office; and

hearing his step, she opened her door softly, and drew him in.

Then she related fully all she had heard and seen on the past

night.

The upright and virtuous young man clasped his hands together in

horror and disgust, but could not resolve whether it were fitter

to declare the whole matter to her Highness instantly or not.

Clara, however, was of opinion that her Grace would derive great

comfort from the information, because when the Prince found how

Sidonia had betrayed him, he would give up the creature of his own

accord. To which Marcus answered, that probably the Prince would

not believe a word of the story, and then matters would be in a

worse way than ever.

_Illa_.--"Was he afraid to disgrace Sidonia because she was

his kinswoman? Was it the honour of his name he wished to shield

by sparing her from infamy?"

_Hic_.--"No; she wronged him. If she were his sister, he

would still do his duty towards her Grace. The honour of the whole

Pomeranian house was perilled here, and he would save it at any

cost. But did his darling bride know who the ghost was?"

_Illa_.--"No; she had been thinking the whole night about him

till her head ached, but in vain."

At this moment the Grand Chamberlain passed the room on his way to

the Duchess, and they both went to the door, and entreated him to

come in and give them his advice. How the old knight laughed for

joy when he heard all; it was almost as good news to him as the

death of the young lord would have been. But no; they must not

breathe a syllable of it to her Highness. Wait for this night, and

if the dear ghost appeared again, he would give him and his

paramour something to think of to the end of their lives. Then he

walked up and down Clara's little room, thinking over what should

be done; and finally resolved to open the matter to the young

Prince that night between ten and eleven o'clock, and show him

what a creature he was going to make Duchess of Pomerania. After

which they should all, Marcus included, go armed to the

stables--for the Prince, no doubt, would be slow of belief--and

there conceal themselves in the coach until the ghost arrived. If

he came, as was almost certain, they would follow him to Sidonia's

room, break it open, and discover them together. In order that

witnesses might not be wanting, he would desire all the pages and

household to be collected in his room at that hour; and the moment

they were certain of having trapped the ghost, Marcus should slip

out of the coach, and run to gather them all together in the grand

corridor. To ensure all this being done, he would take the keys

from the castellan himself that night, and keep them in his own

possession. But, above all things, they were to keep still and

quiet during the day; and now he would proceed to her Grace.

But Marcus Bork begged to ask him, if the ghost did not come that

night, what was to be done? For the next was to be that of the

marriage, and unless the Prince was convinced by his own eyes,

nothing would make him credit the wickedness of his intended

bride. Sidonia would swear by heaven and earth that the story was

a malicious invention, and a plot to effect her utter destruction.

This view of the case puzzled the old knight not a little, and he

rubbed his forehead and paced up and down the room, till suddenly

an idea struck him, and he exclaimed--"I have it, Marcus! You are

a brave youth, dear Marcus, and a loyal subject and servant to her

Grace. Your conduct will bring as much honour upon the noble name

of Bork as Sidonia's has brought disgrace. Therefore I will trust

you. Listen, Marcus. If the ghost does not appear to-night, then

you must ride the morrow morn to Crummyn. Bribe the priest with

gold. Tell him that he must write instantly to the young Prince,

saying, that the marriage must be delayed for eight days, for

there was no boat to be had safe enough to carry him and his bride

up the Haff, seeing that all the boats and their crews were

engaged at the fisheries, and would not be back to Crummyn until

the following Saturday. The young lord, therefore, must have

patience. Should the priest hesitate, then Marcus must threaten

him with the loss of his living, as the whole princely house

should be made acquainted with his villainy. He will then consent.

I know him well!

"If that is once arranged, then we shall seat ourselves every

night in the coach until the ghost comes; and, methinks, he will

not long delay, since hitherto he has managed his work with such

security and success."

The discreet and virtuous Marcus promised to obey Ulrich in all

things, and the Grand Chamberlain then went his way.

CHAPTER XVIII.

_How the horrible wickedness of Sidonia was made apparent; and

how in consequence thereof she was banished with ignominy from the

ducal court of Wolgast_.

The night came at last. And the Grand Chamberlain collected, as he

had said, all the officials and pages of the household together in

his office at the treasury, and bid them wait there until he

summoned them. No one was to leave the apartment under pain of his

severe displeasure. _Item_, he had prayed her Grace not to

retire to rest that night before twelve of the clock; and when she

asked wherefore, he replied that she would have to take leave of a

very remarkable visitor that night; upon which she desired to know

more, but he said that his word was passed not to reveal more. So

her Grace thought he meant himself, and promised to remain up.

As ten o'clock struck, the castellan locked, up, as was his wont,

all that portion of the castle leading to the women's apartments.

Whereupon Ulrich asked him for the keys, saying that he would keep

them in his own charge. Then he prayed his Serene Highness Prince

Ernest to accompany him to the lumber-room.

His Highness consented, and they both ascended in the dark. On

entering, Ulrich drew forth a dark lantern from beneath his cloak,

and made the light fall upon an old suit of armour. Then turning

to the Prince--"Do you know this armour?" he said.

"Ah, yes; it was the armour of his dearly beloved father, Duke

Philip."

_Ille_.--"Right. Did he then remember the admonitions which

the wearer of this armour had uttered, upon his deathbed, to him

and his brothers?"

"Oh yes, well he remembered them; but what did this long sermon

denote?"

_Ille_.--"This he would soon know. Had he not given his right

hand to the wearer of that armour, and pledged himself ever to set

a good example before the people committed to his rule?"

_Hic_.--"He did not know what all this meant. Had he even set

a bad example to his subjects?"

_Ille_.--"He was on the high-road to do it, when he had

resolved to wed himself secretly to a maiden beneath his rank.

(Here the young Prince became as pale as a corpse.) Let him deny,

if he could, that he had sworn by his father's corpse, with his

hand upon the coffin, to abandon Sidonia. He would not upbraid him

with his broken promises to him, but would he bring his loving

mother to her grave through shame and a broken heart? Would he

make himself on a level with the lowest of the people, by wedding

Sidonia the next night in the church at Crummyn?"

_Hic_.--"Had that accursed Catholic nun then betrayed him?

Ah, he was surrounded by spies and traitors; but if he could not

obtain Sidonia now, he would wed her the moment he was of age and

succeeded to the government. If he could in no way have Sidonia,

then he would never wed another woman, but remain single and a

dead branch for his whole life long. Her blood was as noble as his

own, and no devil should dare to part them."

_Ille.--"But if he could prove, this very night, to the young

lord, that Sidonia was not an honourable maiden, but a dishonoured

creature----" Here the young Prince drew his dagger and rushed

upon the old man, with lips foaming with rage; but Ulrich sprang

behind the armour of Duke Philip, and said calmly, "Ernest, if

thou wouldst murder me who have been so leal and faithful a

servant to thee and thine, then strike me dead here through the

links of thy father's cuirass."

And as the young man drew back with a deep groan, he

continued--"Hear me, before thou dost a deed which eternity will

not be long enough to repent. I cannot be angry with thee, for I

have been young myself, and would have stricken any one to the

earth who had called my own noble bride dishonoured. Listen to me,

then, and strike me afterwards, if thou wilt." Hereupon the old

knight stepped out from behind the armour, which was fixed upon a

wooden frame in the middle of the apartment, with the helmet

surmounting it, and leaning against the shoulder-piece, he

proceeded to relate all that Clara had seen and heard.

The young Prince turned first as red as scarlet, then pale as a

corpse, and sunk down upon a pile of old armour, unable to utter

anything but sighs and groans.

Ulrich then asked if he remembered the silly youth who had been

drowned lately in consequence of Sidonia's folly; for it was his

apparition in the armour he then wore which it was reported

haunted the castle. And did he remember also how that armour (in

which the poor young man's father also had been killed fighting

against the Bohemians) had been taken off the corpse and hung up

again in that lumber-room?

_Hic_.--"Of course he remembered all that; it had happened

too lately for him to forget the circumstance."

_Ille_.--"Well, then, let him take the lantern himself, and

see if the armour hung still upon the wall." So the young lord

took the lantern with trembling hands, and advanced to the place;

but no--there was no armour there now. Then he looked all round

the room, but the armour with the serpent crest was nowhere to be

seen. He dropped the lantern with a bitter execration. Hereupon

the old knight continued--"You see, my gracious Prince, that the

ghost must have flesh and blood, like you or me. The castellan

tells me that when the ghost first began his pranks, the helmet

and cuirass were still found every morning in their usual place

here. But for eight days they have not been forthcoming; for the

ghost, you see, is growing hardy and forgetting his usual

precautions. However, the castellan had determined to watch him,

and seize hold of him, for, as he rightly conjectured, a spirit

could not carry away a heavy iron suit of armour on him; but his

wife had dissuaded him from those measures up to the present time.

Come now to the stables with me," continued Ulrich, "and let us

conceal ourselves in the coach which I mentioned to you; Marcus

Bork shall accompany us, and let us wait there until the ghost

appears, and creeps through the trapdoor. After some time we shall

follow him; and then this wicked cheat will be detected. But

before we move, swear to me that you will await the issue

peaceably and calmly in the coach; you must neither sigh nor

groan, nor scarcely breathe. No matter what you hear or see, if

you cannot control your fierce, jealous rage, all will be lost."

Then the young Prince gave him his hand, and promised to keep

silence, though it should cost him his life, for no one could be

more anxious to discover the truth or falsehood of this matter

than he himself. So they both descended now to the courtyard,

Ulrich concealing the lantern under his mantle; and they crouched

along by the wall till they reached the horse-pond, where Marcus

Bork stood awaiting them; then they glided on, one by one, into

the stables, and concealed themselves within the coach.

It was well they did so without longer delay, for scarcely had

they been seated when the ghost appeared. No doubt he had heard of

the intended marriage, and wished to take advantage of his last

opportunity. As the sound of his feet became audible approaching

the coach, the Prince almost groaned audibly; but the stout old

knight threw one arm powerfully round his body, and placed the

hand of the other firmly over his mouth. The ghost now began to

ascend the coach, and they heard him clambering up the hind wheel;

he slipped down, however (a bad omen), and muttered a half-curse;

then, to help himself up better, he seized hold of the sash of the

window, and with it took a grip of Ulrich's beard, as he was

leaning close to the side of the coach to watch his proceedings.

Not a stir did the brave old knight make, but sat as still as

marble, and even held his breath, lest the ghost might feel it

warm upon his hand, and so discover their ambuscade.

At last he was up; and they heard him clattering over their heads,

then creeping through the trap-door into the corridor, and a

little after, the sound of a door gently opening.

All efforts were in vain to keep the Prince quiet. He must follow

him. He would rush through the trap-door after him, though it cost

him his life! But old Ulrich whispered in his ear, "Now I know

that Prince Ernest has neither honour nor discretion, and

Pomerania has little to hope from such a ruler." All in vain--he

springs out of the coach, but the knight after him, who hastily

gave Marcus Bork the keys of the castle, and bade him go fetch the

household, down to the menials, here to the gallery. Marcus took

them, and left the stables instantly. Then Ulrich seized the hand

of Prince Ernest, who was already on the top of the coach, and

asked him was it thus he would, leave an old man without any one

to assist him. Let him in first through the trap-door, while the

Prince held the lantern. To this he consented, and helped the old

knight up, who, having reached the trap-door, put his head

through; but, alas! the portly stomach of the stout old knight

would not follow. He stretched out his head, however, on every

side, as far as it could go, and heard distinctly low whispering

voices from Sidonia's little room; then a sound as of the tramp of

many feet became audible in the courtyard, by which he knew that

Marcus and the household were advancing rapidly.

But the young lord, who was waiting at the top of the coach, grew

impatient, and pulled him back, endeavouring to creep through the

hole himself. Praised be Heaven, however, this he failed to do

from weakness; so he was obliged to follow the Grand Chamberlain,

who whispered to him to come down, and they could reach the

corridor through the usual entrance. Hereupon they both left the

stables, and met Marcus in the courtyard with his company.

Then all ascended noiselessly to the gallery, and ranged

themselves around Sidonia's door. Ulrich now told eight of the

strongest carls present to step forward and lean their shoulders

against the door, but make no stir until he gave a sign; then when

he cried "Now!" they should burst it open with all their force.

As to the young Prince, he was trembling like an aspen leaf, and

his weakness was so great that two young men had to support him.

In short, as all present gradually stole closer and closer up to

the door of Sidonia's room, the old knight drew forth his lantern,

and signed to the men, who stood with their shoulders pressed

against it; then when all was ready, he cried "Now!" and the door

burst open with a loud crash. Every lock, and bar, and bolt

shivered to atoms, and in rushed the whole party, Ulrich at their

head, with his lantern lifted high up above them all.

Sidonia and her visitor were standing in the middle of the room.

Ulrich first flashed the light upon the face of the man. Who would

have believed it?--no other than Johann Appelmann! The knight hit

him a heavy blow across the face, exclaiming, "What! thou common

horse-jockey--thou low-born varlet--is it thus thou bringest

disgrace upon a maiden of the noblest house in Pomerania? Ha, thou

shalt be paid for this. Wait! Master Hansen shall give thee some

of his gentle love-touches this night!"

But meanwhile the young Prince had entered, and beheld Sidonia, as

she stood there trembling from shame, and endeavouring to cover

her face with her long, beautiful golden hair that fell almost to

her knees. "Sidonia!" he exclaimed, with a cry as bitter as if a

dagger had passed through his heart--"Sidonia!" and fell

insensible before her.

Now a great clamour arose amongst the crowd, for beside the couch

lay the helmet and cuirass of the ghost; so every one knew now who

it was that had played this trick on them for so long, and kept

the castle in such a state of terror.

Then they gathered round the poor young Prince, who lay there as

stiff as a corpse, and lamented over him with loud lamentations,

and some of them lifted him up to carry him out of the chamber;

but the Grand Chamberlain sternly commanded them to lay him down

again before his bride, whom he had arranged to wed privately at

Crummyn on the following night. Then seizing Sidonia by the hand,

and dashing back her long hair, he led her forward before all the

people, and said with a loud voice, "See here the illustrious and

high-born Lady Sidonia, of the holy Roman Empire, Duchess of

Pomerania, Cassuben, and Wenden, Princess of Rügen, Countess of

Gützkow, and our Serene and most Gracious Lady, how she honours

the princely house of Pomerania by sharing her love with this

stable groom, this tailor's son, this debauched profligate! Oh! I

could grow mad when I think of this disgrace. Thou shameless one!

have I not long ago given thee thy right name? But wait--the name

shall be branded on thee this night, so that all the world may

read it."

Just then her Grace entered with Clara, followed by all the other

maids of honour; for, hearing the noise and tumult, they had

hastened thither as they were, some half undressed, others with

only a loose night-robe flung round them. And her Grace, seeing

the young lord lying pale and insensible on the ground, wrung her

hands and cried out, "Who has killed my son? who has murdered my

darling child?"

Here stepped forward Ulrich, and said, "The young lord was not

dead; but, if it so pleased God, was in a fair way now to regain

both life and reason." Then he related all which had led to this

discovery; and how they had that night been themselves the

witnesses of Sidonia's wickedness with the false ghost. Now her

Grace knew his secret, which he had not told until certain of

success.

As he related all these things, her Grace turned upon Sidonia and

spat on her; and the young lord, having recovered somewhat in

consequence of the water they had thrown on him, cried out,

"Sidonia! is it possible? No, Sidonia, it is not possible!"

The shameless hypocrite had now recovered her self-possession, and

would have denied all knowledge of Appelmann, saying that he

forced himself in when she chanced to open the door; but he,

interrupting her, cried, "Does the girl dare to lay all the blame

on me? Did you not press my hand there when you were lying after

you fell from the stag? Did you not meet me afterwards in the

lumber-room--that day of the hunt when Duke Barnim was here last?"

"No, no, no!" shrieked Sidonia. "It is a lie, an infamous lie!"

But he answered, "Scream as you will, you cannot deny that this

disguise of the ghost was your own invention to favour my visits

to you. Did you not drop notes for me down on the coach, through

the trap-door, fixing the nights when I might come? and bethink

you of last night, when you sent me a note by your maid, wrapped

up in a little horse-cloth which I had lent you for your cat, with

the prayer that I would not fail to be with you that night nor the

next"--Oh, just Heaven! to think that it was upon that very night

that Clara should break her shoe-string, by which means the

Almighty turned away ruin and disgrace from the ancient,

illustrious, and princely house of Pomerania--all by a broken

shoe-string! For if the ghost had remained away but that one

night, or Clara had not broken her shoestring, Sidonia would have

been Duchess of Pomerania; but what doth the Scripture say? "Man's

goings are of the Lord. What man understandeth his own way?"

(Prov. xx. 24).

When Sidonia heard him tell all this, and how she had written

notes of entreaty to him, she screamed aloud, and springing at him

like a wild-cat, buried her ten nails in his hair, shrieking,

"Thou liest, traitor; it is false! it is false!"

Now Ulrich rushed forward, and seized her by her long hair to part

them, but at that moment Master Hansen, the executioner, entered

in his red cloak, with six assistants (for Ulrich had privately

sent for him), and the Grand Chamberlain instantly let go his hold

of Sidonia, saying, "You come in good time, Master Hansen; take

away this wretched pair, lock them up in the bastion tower, and on

the morn bring them to the horse-market by ten of the clock, and

there scourge and brand them; then carry them both to the frontier

out of our good State of Wolgast, and let them both go their ways

from that, whither it may please them."

When Sidonia heard this, she let go her paramour and fell fainting

upon the bed; but recovering herself in a little time, she

exclaimed, "What is this you talk of? A noble maiden who is as

innocent as the child in its cradle, to be scourged by the common

executioner? Oh, is there no Christian heart here to take pity on

a poor, helpless girl! Gracious young Prince, even if all the

world hold me guilty, you cannot, no, you cannot; it is

impossible!"

Hereupon the young lord began to tremble like an aspen leaf, and

said in a broken voice, "Alas, Sidonia! you betrayed yourself: if

you had not mentioned that trap-door to me, I might still have

believed you innocent (I, who thought some good angel had guided

you to it!); now it is impossible; yet be comforted, the

executioner shall never scourge you nor brand you--you are branded

enough already." Then turning to the Grand Chamberlain he said,

that with his consent a hangman should never lay his hands upon

this nobly born maiden, whom he had once destined to be Duchess of

Pomerania; but Appelmann, this base-born vassal, who had eaten of

his bread and then betrayed him like a Judas, let him be flogged

and branded as much as they pleased; no word of his should save

the accursed seducer from punishment.

Notwithstanding this, old Ulrich was determined on having Sidonia

scourged, and my gracious lady the Duchess must have her scourged

too. "Let her dear son only think that if the all-merciful God had

not interposed, he would have been utterly ruined and his princely

house disgraced, by means of this girl. Nothing but evil had she

brought with her since first she set foot in the castle: she had

caused his sickness; item, the death of two young knights by

drowning; item, the terrible execution of Joachim Budde, who was

beheaded at the festival; and had she not, in addition, whipped

her dear little Casimir, which unseemly act had only lately come

to her knowledge? and had she not also made every man in the

castle that approached her mad for love of her, all by her

diabolical conduct? No--away with the wretch: she merits her

chastisement a thousand and a thousand-fold!" And old Ulrich

exclaimed likewise, "Away with the wretch and her paramour!"

Here the young lord made an effort to spring forward to save her,

but fell fainting on the ground; and while the attendants were

busy running for water to throw over him, Clara von Dewitz,

turning away the executioner with her hand from Sidonia, fell down

on her knees before her Grace, and besought her to spare at least

the person of the poor, unfortunate maiden; did her Grace think

that any punishment could exceed what she had already suffered?

Let her own compassionate heart plead along with her words--and

did not the Scripture say, "Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord."

Hereupon her Grace looked at old Ulrich without speaking; but he

understood her glance, and made answer--"No; the hangman must do

his duty towards the wretch!" when her Grace said mildly, "But for

the sake of this dear, good young maiden, I think we might let her

go, for, remember, if she had not opened out this villainy to us,

the creature would have been my daughter-in-law, and my princely

house disgraced for evermore."

Now Marcus Bork stepped forward, and added his prayers that the

noble name he bore might not be disgraced in Sidonia. "He had ever

been a faithful feudal vassal to her princely house, and had not

even scrupled to bring the secret wicked deeds of his cousin

before the light of day, though it was like a martyrdom of his own

flesh and blood for conscience' sake."

Here old Ulrich burst forth in great haste--"Seven thousand

devils! Let the wench be off, then. Not another night should she

rest in the castle. Let her speak--where would she go to? where

should they bring her to?"

And when Sidonia answered, sobbing, "To Stettin, to her gracious

lord, Duke Barnim, who would take pity on her because of her

innocence," Ulrich laughed outright in scorn. "I shall give the

driver a letter to him, and another to thy father. Perhaps his

Grace will show thee true pity, and drive thee with his horsewhip

to Stramehl. But thou shalt journey in the same coach whereon thy

leman clambered up to the trap-door, and Master Hansen shall sit

on the coach-box and drive thee himself. As to thy darling

stablegroom here, the master must set his mark on him before he

goes; but that can be done when the hangman returns from Stettin."

When Appelmann heard this, he fell at the feet of the Lord

Chamberlain, imploring him to let him off too. "Had he not ridden

to Spantekow, without stop or stay, at the peril of his life, to

oblige Lord Ulrich that time the Lapland wizard made the evil

prophecy; and though his illustrious lady died, yet that was from

no fault of his, and his lordship had then promised not to forget

him if he were but in need. So now he demanded, on the strength of

his knightly word, that a horse should be given him from the ducal

stables, and that he be permitted to go forth, free and scathless,

to ride wherever it might please him. His sins were truly heavy

upon him, and he would try and do better, with the help of God."

When the old knight heard him express himself in this godly sort

(for the knave knew his man well), he was melted to compassion,

and said, "Then go thy way, and God give thee grace to repent of

thy manifold sins."

Her Grace had nothing to object; only to put a fixed barrier

between the Prince and Sidonia, she added, "But send first for Dr.

Gerschovius, that he may unite this shameless pair in marriage

before they leave the castle, and then they can travel away

together."

Hereupon Johann Appelmann exclaimed, "No, never! How could he hope

for God's grace to amend him, living with a thing like that, tied

to him for life, which God and man alike hold in abhorrence?" At

this speech Sidonia screamed aloud, "Thou lying and accursed

stable-groom, darest thou speak so of a castle and land dowered

maiden?" and she flew at him, and would have torn his hair, but

Marcus Bork seized hold of her round the waist, and dragged her

with great effort into Clara's room.

Now the tears poured from the eyes of her Grace at such a

disgraceful scene, and she turned to her son, who was slowly

recovering--"Hast thou heard, Ernest, this groom--this servant of

thine--refuses to take the girl to wife whom thou wast going to

make Duchess of Pomerania? Woe! woe! what words for thy poor

mother to hear; but it was all foreshadowed when Dr. Luther--" &c.

&c.

In short, the end of the infamous story was, that Sidonia was

carried off that very night in the identical coach we know of, and

Master Hansen was sent with her, bearing letters to the Duke and

Otto from the Grand Chamberlain, and one also to the burgomaster

Appelmann in Stargard; and the executioner had strict orders to

drive her himself the whole way to Stettin. As for Appelmann, he

sprung upon a Friesland clipper, as the old chamberlain had

permitted, and rode away that same night. But the young lord was

so ill from grief and shame, that he was lifted to his bed, and

all the _medici_ of Grypswald and Wolgast were summoned to

attend him.

And such was the end of Sidonia von Bork at the ducal court of

Wolgast. But old Küssow told me that for a long while she was the

whole talk of the court and town, many wondering, though they knew

well her light behaviour, that she should give herself up to

perdition at last for a common groom, no better than a menial

compared to her. But I find the old proverb is true for her as

well as for another, "The apple falls close to the tree; as is the

sheep, so is the lamb;" for had her father brought her up in the

fear of God, in place of encouraging her in revenge, pride, and

haughtiness, Sidonia might have been a good and honoured wife for

her life long. But the libertine example of her father so

destroyed all natural instincts of modesty and maidenly reserve

within her, that she fell an easy prey to the first temptation.

In short, my gracious Prince Bogislaus XIV., as well as all those

who love and honour the illustrious house of Wolgast, will

devoutly thank God for having turned away this disgrace in a

manner so truly wonderful.

I have already spoken of the broken shoe-tie, but in addition, I

must point out that if Sidonia had counselled her paramour to take

the armour of Duke Philip, which hung in the same lumber-room, in

place of that belonging to the serpent knight, that wickedness

would never have come to light. For assuredly all in the castle

would have believed that it was truly the ghost of the dead duke,

who came to reproach his son for not holding the oath which he had

sworn on his coffin, to abandon Sidonia. And consequently, respect

and terror would have alike prevented any human soul in the castle

from daring to follow it, and investigate its object. Therefore

let us praise the name of the Lord who turned all things to good,

and fulfilled, in Sidonia and her lover, the Scripture which

saith, "Thinking themselves wise, they became fools" (Rom. i. 21).

END OF FIRST BOOK.

BOOK II.

FROM THE BANISHMENT OF SIDONIA FROM THE DUCAL COURT OF WOLGAST UP

TO HER RECEPTION IN THE CONVENT OF MARIENFLIESS.

CHAPTER I.

_Of the quarrel between Otto Bork and the Stargardians, which

caused him to demand the dues upon the Jena._

MOST EMINENT AND ILLUSTRIOUS PRINCE!--Your Grace must be informed,

that much of what I have here set down, in this second book, was

communicated to me by that same old Uckermann of Dalow of whom I

have spoken already in my first volume.

Other important facts I have gleaned from the Diary of Magdalena

von Petersdorfin, _Priorissa_ of the convent of Marienfliess.

She was an old and worthy matron, whom Sidonia, however, used to

mock and insult, calling her the old cat, and such-like names. But

she revenged herself on the shameless wanton in no other way than

by writing down what facts she could collect of her disgraceful

life and courses, for the admonition and warning of the holy

sisterhood.

This little book the pious nun left to her sister Sophia, who is

still living in the convent at Marienfliess; and she, at my

earnest entreaties, permitted me to peruse it.

Before, however, I continue the relation of Sidonia's adventures,

I must state to your Grace what were the circumstances which

induced Otto von Bork to demand so urgently the dues upon the Jena

from their Highnesses of Stettin and Wolgast. In my opinion, it

was for nothing else than to revenge himself upon the burgomaster

of Stargard, Jacob Appelmann, father of the equerry. The quarrel

happened years before, but Otto never forgot it, and only waited a

fitting opportunity to take vengeance on him and the people of

Stargard.

This Jacob Appelmann was entitled to receive a great portion of

the Jena dues, which were principally paid to him in kind,

particularly in foreign spices, which he afterwards sold to the

Polish Jews, at the annual fair held in Stramehl.

It happened, upon one of these occasions, as Jacob, with two of

his porters, appeared, as usual, carrying bags of spices, to sell

to the Polish Jews, that Otto met him in the market-place, and

invited him to come up to his castle, for that many nobles were

assembled there who would, no doubt, give him better prices for

his goods than the Polish Jews, and added that the worthy

burgomaster must drink his health with him that day.

Now, Jacob Appelmann was no despiser of good cheer or of broad

gold pieces; so, unfortunately for himself, he accepted the

invitation. But the knight had only lured him up to the castle to

insult and mock him. For when he entered the hall, a loud roar of

laughter greeted his appearance, and the half-drunk guests, who

were swilling the wine as if they had tuns to fill, and not

stomachs, swore that he must pledge each of them separately, in a

lusty draught. So they handed him an enormous becker, cut with

Otto's arms, bidding him drain it; but as the Herr Jacob

hesitated, his host asked him, laughing, was he a Jesu disciple,

that he refused to drink?

Hereupon the other answered, he was too old for a disciple, but he

was not ashamed to call himself a servant of Jesus.

Then they all roared with laughter, and Otto spoke--

"My good lords and dear friends, ye know how that the Stargard

knaves joined with the Pomeranian Duke to ravage my good town of

Stramehl, so that it can be only called a village now. And it is

also not unknown to you that my disgrace then passed into a

proverb, so that people will still say, 'He fell upon me as the

Stargardians upon Stramehl.' Let us, then, revenge ourselves

to-day. If this Jesu's servant will not drink, then tear open his

mouth, put a tun-dish therein, and pour down a good draught till

the knave cries 'enough!' As to his spices, let us scatter them

before the Polish Jews, as pease before swine, and it will be

merry pastime to see how the beasts will lick them up. Thus will

Stramehl retort upon Stargard, and the whole land will shout with

laughter. For wherefore does this Stargard pedlar come here to my

fairs? Mayhap I shall visit his."

Peals of laughter and applause greeted Otto's speech; but Jacob,

when he heard it, determined, if possible, to effect his escape;

and watching his opportunity, for he was the only one there not

drunk, sprang out of the hall, and down the flight of steps, and

being young then, never drew breath till he reached the

market-place of Stramehl, and jumped into his own waggon.

In vain Otto screamed out to "stop him, stop him!" all his

servants were at the fair, where, indeed, the people of the whole

country round were gathered. Then the host and the guests sprang

up themselves, to run after Jacob Appelmann, but many could not

stand, and others tumbled down by the way. However, with a chorus

of cries, curses, and threats, Otto and some others at last

reached the waggon, and laid hold of it. Then they dragged out the

bags of spices, and emptied them all down upon the street,

crying--

"Come hither, ye Jews; which of you wants pepper? Who wants

cloves?"

So all the Jews in the place ran together, and down they went on

all-fours picking up the spices, while their long beards swept the

pavement quite clean. Hey! how they pushed and screamed, and dealt

blows about among themselves, till their noses bled, and the place

looked as if gamecocks had been fighting there, whereat Otto and

his roistering guests roared with laughter.

One of the bags they pulled out of the waggon contained cinnamon;

but a huntsman of Otto Bork's, not knowing what it was, poured it

down likewise into the street. Cinnamon was then so rare, that it

sold for its weight in gold. So an old Jew, spying the precious

morsel, cried out, "Praise be to God! Praise be to God!" and ran

through Otto Bork's legs to get hold of a stick of it. This made

the knight look down, and seeing the cinnamon, he straightway bid

the huntsman gather it all up again quick, and carry it safely

home to the castle.

But the old Jew would by no means let go his hold of the booty,

and kept the sticks in one hand high above his head, while with

the other he dealt heavy buffets upon the huntsman. An apprentice

of Jacob Appelmann's beheld all this from the waggon, and knowing

what a costly thing this cinnamon was, he made a long arm out of

the waggon, and snapped away the sticks from the Jew. Upon this

the huntsman sprang at the apprentice; but the latter, seizing a

pair of pot-hooks, which his master had that day bought in the

fair, dealt such a blow with them upon the head of the huntsman,

that he fell down at once upon the ground quite dead.

Now every one cried out "Murder! murder! Jodute! Jodute! Jodute!"

and they tore the bags right and left from the waggon, Jews as

well as Christians; but Otto commanded them to seize the

apprentice also. So they dragged him out too. He was a fine young

man of twenty-three, Louis Griepentroch by name. There was such an

uproar, that the men who held the horses' heads were forced away.

Whereupon the burgomaster resolved to seize this opportunity for

escape; and without heeding the lamentations of the other

apprentice, Zabel Griepentroch, who prayed him earnestly to stop

and save his poor brother, desired the driver to lash the horses

into a gallop, and never stop nor stay until the unlucky town was

left far behind them.

Otto von Bork ordered instant pursuit, but in vain. The

burgomaster could not be overtaken, and reached Wangerin in

safety. There he put up at the inn, to give the panting horses

breathing-time; and now the aforesaid Zabel besought him, with

many tears, to write to Otto Bork on behalf of his poor brother,

to which the burgomaster at last consented; for he loved these two

youths, who were orphans and twins, and he had brought them up

from their childhood, and treated them in all things like a true

and loving godfather. So he wrote to Otto, "That if aught of ill

happened to the young Louis Griepentroch, he (the burgomaster)

would complain to his Grace of Stettin, for the youth had only

done his duty in trying to save the property of his master from

the hands of robbers." The good Jacob, however, admonished Zabel

to make up his mind for the worst, for the knight was not a man

whose heart could be melted, as he himself had experienced but too

well that day.

But the sorrowing youth little heeded the admonitions, only seized

the letter, and ran with it that same evening back to Stramehl.

Here, however, no one would listen to him, no one heeded him; and

when at last he got up to Otto and gave him the letter, the knight

swore he would flay him alive if he did not instantly quit the

town. Now the poor youth gnashed his teeth in rage and despair,

and determined to be revenged on the knight.

Just then came by a great crowd leading his brother Louis to the

gallows; and on his head they had stuck a high paper cap with the

Stargard arms painted thereon, namely, a tower with two griffins

(Sidonia, indeed, had painted it, and she was by, and clapping her

hands with delight); and for the greater scandal to Stargard, they

had tied two hares' tails to the back of the cap, with the

inscription written in large letters above them--"So came the

Stargardians to Stramehl!"

And Otto and his guests gathered round the gallows, and all the

market-folk, with great uproar and laughter. _Summa_, when

the poor carl saw all this, and that there was no hope for his

heart's dear brother, neither could he even get near him just to

say a last "good-night," he ran like mad to the castle, which was

almost empty now, as every one had gone to the market-place; and

there, on the hill, he turned round and saw how the hangman had

shoved his dear Louis from the ladder, and the body was swinging

lamentably to and fro between heaven and earth. So he seized a

brand and set fire to the brew-house, from which a thick smoke and

light flames soon rose high into the air. Now all the people

rushed towards the castle, for they suspected well who had done

the deed, particularly as they had observed a young fellow

running, as if for life or death, in the opposite direction

towards the open country. So they pursued him with wild shouts

from every direction; right and left they hemmed him in, and cut

off his escape to the wood. And Otto Bork sprang upon a fresh

horse, and galloped along with them, roaring out, "Seize the

rascal!--seize the vile incendiary! He who takes him shall have a

tun of my best beer!" But others he despatched to the castle to

extinguish the flames.

Now the poor Zabel knew not what to do, for on every side his

pursuers were gaining fast upon him, and he heard Otto's voice

close behind crying, "There he runs! there he runs! Seize the

gallows-bird, that he may swing with his brother this night. A tun

of my best beer to the man who takes him! Seize the incendiary!"

So the poor wretch, in his anguish, threw off his smock upon the

grass and sprang into the lake, hoping to be able to swim to the

other side and reach the wood.

"In after him!" roared Otto; and a fellow jumped in instantly, and

seizing hold of Zabel by the hose, dragged him along with him; but

they were soon both carried into deep water--Zabel, however, was

the uppermost, and held the other down tight to stifle him.

Another seeing this, plunged in to rescue his companion, and from

the bank dived down underneath Zabel, intending to seize him round

the body; but it so happened that the fishermen of Stramehl had

laid their nets close to the place, and he plunged direct into the

middle of the largest, and stuck there miserably; which when Zabel

observed, he let the other go, who was now quite dead, and struck

out boldly for the opposite bank. The fishermen sprang into their

boats to pursue him, and the crowd ran round, hoping to cut off

the pass before he could gain the bank; but he was a brave youth,

and distanced them all, jumped on land before one of them could

reach him, and plunged into the thick wood. Here it was vain to

follow him, for night was coming on fast; so he pursued his path

in safety, and returned to his master at Stramehl.

Otto von Bork, however, would not let the matter rest here, for he

had sustained great loss by the burning of his brew-house (the

other buildings were saved); therefore he wrote to the honourable

council at Stargard--"That by the shameful and scandalous burning

of his brew-house, he had lost two fine hounds named Stargard and

Stramehl, which he had brought himself from Silesia; _item_,

two old servants and a woman; _item_, in the lake, two other

servants had been drowned; and all by the revenge of an

apprentice, because he had justly caused his brother to be

executed. Therefore this apprentice must be given up to him, that

he might have him broken on the wheel, otherwise their vassals on

the Jena should suffer in such a sort, that the Stargardians would

long have reason to remember Otto Bork."

Now, some of the honourable councillors were of opinion that they

should by no means give up the apprentice; first, because Otto had

insulted the Stargard arms, and secondly, lest it might appear as

if they feared he would fulfil his threats respecting the Jena.

But Jacob Appelmann, the burgomaster, who lay sick in his bed from

the treatment he had received at Stramehl, entirely disapproved of

this resolution; and when they came to him for his advice,

proposed to give for answer to the knight that he should first

indemnify him for the loss of his costly spices, which he valued

at one thousand florins, and when this sum was paid down, they

might treat of the matter concerning the apprentice.

The knight, however, mocked them for making such an absurd demand

as compensation, and reiterated his threats, that if the young man

were not delivered up to him, he would punish Stargard with a

great punishment.

The council, however, were still determined not to yield; and as

the burgomaster lay sick in his bed, they released the apprentice

from prison; and replied to Otto, "That if he broke the public

peace of his Imperial Majesty, let the consequences fall on his

own head--there was still justice for them to be had in

Pomerania."

When the burgomaster heard of this, he had himself carried in a

litter, sick as he was, to the honourable council, and asked them,

"Was this justice, to release an incendiary from prison? If they

sought justice for themselves, let them deal it out to others. No

one had lost more by the transaction than he: his income for the

next two years was clean gone, and the care and anxiety he had

undergone, besides, had reduced him to this state of bodily

weakness which they observed. It was a heart-grief to him to give

up the young man, for he had reared him from the baptism water,

and he had been a faithful servant unto him up to this day. Could

he save him, he would gladly give up his house and all he was

worth, and go and take a lodging upon the wall; for this young man

had once saved his life, by slaying a mad dog which had seized him

by the tail of his coat; but it was not to be done. They must set

an honourable example, as just and upright citizens and fearless

magistrates, who hold that old saying in honour--'_Fiat justitia

et pereat mundus_;' which means, 'Let justice be done, though

life and fortune perish.' But the punishment of the wheel was, he

confessed, altogether too severe for the poor youth; and therefore

he counselled that they should hang him, as Otto had hung his

brother."

This course the honourable society consented at last to adopt; but

the knight had disgraced their arms, and they ought in return to

disgrace his. They could get the court painter from Stettin at the

public expense, and let him paint Otto Bork's arms on the back of

the young man's hose.

Here the burgomaster again interfered--"Why should the honourable

council attempt a stupid insult, because the knight had done so?"

But he talked in vain; they were determined on this retaliation.

At last (but after a great deal of trouble) he obtained a promise

that they would have the arms painted before, upon his smock, and

not behind, upon the hose, for that would be a sore disgrace to

Otto, and bring his vengeance upon them. "Why should they do more

to him than he had done unto them? The Scripture said, 'Eye for

eye, tooth for tooth,' and not two eyes for an eye, two teeth for

a tooth." Hereupon the honourable council pronounced sentence on

the young man, and fixed the third day from that for his

execution. But first the executioner must bring him up before the

bed of the burgomaster, who thus spoke--"Ah, Zabel, wherefore

didst thou not behave as I admonished thee in Wangerin?" And as

the young man began to weep, he gave him his hand, and admonished

him to be steadfast in the death-hour, asked his forgiveness for

having condemned him, but it was his duty as a magistrate so to

do--thanked him for having saved his life by slaying the mad dog;

finally, bid him "Good-night," and then buried his face in the

pillow.

So the hangman carried back the weeping youth to the council-hall,

where the honourable councillors had the Bork arms fastened upon

his smock, and out of further malice against Otto (for they knew

the burgomaster, being sick in his bed, could not hinder them),

they placed over them a large piece of pasteboard, on which was

written, "So did the Stargardians with Stramehl." _Item_,

they fastened to the two corners a pair of wolf's ears, because

Bork, in the Wendig tongue, signifies wolf. This was to revenge

themselves for the hares' tails.

Then the poor apprentice was carried to the gallows, amid loud

laughter from the common people. And even the honourable

councillors waxed merry at the sight; and as the hangman pushed

him from the ladder, they cried out, "So will the Stargardians do

to Stramehl!"

Now Otto heard tidings of all these doings, but he feared to

complain to his Highness the Duke, because he himself had begun

the quarrel, and they had only retorted as was fair. _Item_,

he did not dare to stop the boats upon the Jena--for he knew that

although Duke Barnim was usually of a soft and placable temper,

yet when he was roused there was no more dangerous enemy. And if

the Stargardians leagued with him, they might fall upon his town

of Stramehl, as they had done once before.

Therefore he waited patiently for an opportunity of revenge, and

held his peace until Sidonia acquainted him with the love of the

young Prince Ernest. Then he resolved to demand the dues upon the

Jena to be given up to him, and if his wicked desire had been

gratified, I think the good citizens of Stargard might have taken

to the beggar's staff for the rest of their days, for like all the

old Hanseatic towns, their entire subsistence came to them by

water, and all their wares and merchandise were carried up the

Jena in boats to the town. These the knight would have rated so

highly, if he had been made owner of the dues, that the town and

people would have been utterly ruined.

It has been already stated that the Duke Barnim gave an ambiguous

answer to Otto upon the subject; but the knight, after his visit

to Wolgast, was so certain of seeing his daughter in a short time

Duchess of Pomerania, that he already looked upon the Jena dues as

his own, and proceeded to act as shall be related in the next

chapter.