_Of the distress in Pomeranian land--Item, how Sidonia and
Johann Appelmann determine to join the robbers in the vicinity of
Stargard._
When my gracious lord, Duke Johann Frederick, succeeded to the
government, he had no idea of hoarding up his money in old pots,
but lavished it freely upon all kinds of buildings, hounds,
horses--in short, upon everything that could make his court and
castle luxurious and magnificent.
Indeed, he was often as prodigal, just to gratify a whim, as when
he flung the gold coins to Dinnies Kleist, merely to see if he
could break them. For instance, he was not content with the old
ducal residence at Stettin, but must pull it down and build
another in the forest, not far from Stargard, with churches,
towers, stables, and all kinds of buildings; and this new
residence he called after his own name, Friedrichswald.
_Item_, my gracious lord had many princely visitors, who
would come with a train of six hundred horses or more; and his
princely spouse, the Duchess Erdmuth, was a lady of munificent
spirit, and flung away gold by handfuls; so that in a short time
his Highness had run through all his forefathers' savings, and his
incoming revenue was greatly diminished by the large annuity which
he had to pay to old Duke Barnim.
Therefore he summoned the states, and requested them to assist him
with more money; but they gave answer that his Highness wanted
prudence; he ought to tie his purse tighter. Why did he build that
new castle of Friedrichswald? Was it ever heard in Pomerania that
a prince needed two state residences? But his Highness never
entered the treasury to look after the expenditure of the
duchy--he did nothing but banquet, hunt, fish, and build. The
states, therefore, had no gold for such extravagances.
When his Highness had received this same answer two or three times
from the states, he waxed wroth, and threatened to pronounce the
_interdictum seculars_ over his poor land, and finally close
the royal treasury and all the courts of justice, until the states
would give him money.
Now the old treasurer, Jacob Zitsewitz, who had quitted Wolgast to
enter the service of his Grace, was so shocked at these
proceedings, that he killed himself out of pure grief and shame.
He was an upright, excellent man, this old Zitsewitz, though
perchance, like old Duke Barnim, he loved the maidens and a lusty
Pomeranian draught rather too well. And he foretold all the evil
that would result from this same interdict; but his Highness
resisted his entreaties; and when the old man found his warnings
unheeded and despised, he stabbed himself, as I have said, there
in the treasury, before his master's eyes, out of grief and shame.
The misery which he prophesied soon fell upon the land; for it was
just at that time that the great house of Loitz failed in Stettin,
leaving debts to the amount of twenty tons of gold, it was said;
by reason of which many thousand men, widows, and orphans, were
utterly beggared, and great distress brought upon all ranks of the
people. Such universal grief and lamentation never had been known
in all Pomerania, as I have heard my father tell, of blessed
memory; and as the princely treasury was closed, as also all the
courts of justice, and no redress could be obtained, many
misguided and ruined men resolved to revenge themselves; and this
was now a welcome hearing to Johann Appelmann.
For having given up all hope of the post of equerry, he made
acquaintance with these disaffected persons, amongst whom was a
miller, one Philip Konneman by name, a notorious knave. With this
Konneman he sits down one evening in the inn to drink Rostock
beer, begins to curse and abuse the reigning family, who had
ruined and beggared the people even more than Hans Loitz. They
ought to combine together and right themselves. Where was the
crime? Their cause was good; and where there were no judges in the
land, complaints would do little good. He would be their captain.
Let him speak to the others about it, and see would they consent.
He knew of many churches where there were jewels and other
valuables still remaining. Also in Stargard, where his dear father
played the burgomaster, there was much gold.
So they fixed a night when they should all meet at Lastadie,
[Footnote: A suburb of Stettin.] near the ducal fish-house; and
Johann then goes to Sidonia to wheedle her out of the gold chain,
for handsel for the robbers.
"Now," he said, "the good old times were come back in Pomerania,
when every one trusted to his own good sword, and were not led
like sheep at the beck of another; for the treasury and all the
courts of justice were closed. So the glorious times of
knight-errantry must come again, such as their forefathers had
seen." His companions had promised to elect him captain; but then
he must give them handsel for that, and the gold chain would just
sell for the sum he wanted. What use was it to her? If she gave
it, then he would take her with him, and the first rich prize they
got he would marry her certainly, and settle down in Poland
afterwards, or wherever else she wished. That would be a glorious
life, and she would never regret the young Duke. And had not all
the nobles in old time led the same life, and so gained their
castles and lands?
But Sidonia began to weep. "Let him do what he would, she would
never give the chain; and if he beat her, she would scream for
help through the streets, and betray all his plans to the
authorities. Now she saw plainly how she had been deceived. He had
talked her out of all her gold, and now wanted to bring her to the
gallows at last. No, never should he get the chain--it was all she
had left; and she had determined at last to go and live quietly at
her farm in Zachow, as soon as she could obtain a vehicle from
Regenswald to Labes."
When Johann heard this, he was terribly alarmed, and kissed her
little hands, and coaxed and flattered her--"Why did she weep?
There were plenty of herons' feathers now in the garden behind St.
Mary's, for the birds were moulting. She could easily get some of
them, and they were worth three times as much as the gold chain.
Did she think it a crime to take a few feathers from that old
sinner, Duke Barnim, or his girls? And if she really wished to
leave him, she could sell the feathers even better in Dresden than
here."
It was all in vain. Sidonia continued weeping--"Let him talk as he
liked, she would never give the chain. He was a knave through and
through. Woe to her that she had ever listened to him! He was the
cause of all her misery!" and so she went on.
But the cunning fox would not give up his prey so easily. He now
tried the same trick which he had played so successfully at
Wolgast upon old Ulrich, and at Stargard upon his father; in
short, he played the penitent, and began to weep and lament over
his errors, and all the misery he had caused her. "It was, indeed,
true that he was to blame for all; but if she would only forgive
him, and say she pardoned him, he would devote his life to her,
and revenge her upon all her enemies. The moment for doing so was
nigh at hand; for the young lord, Prince Ernest, who had so
shamefully abandoned her, was coming here to Stettin with his
young bride, the Princess Hedwig of Brunswick, to spend the
honeymoon, and would he not take good care to waylay them on their
journey to Wolgast, and give them something to think of for the
rest of their lives?"
When Sidonia heard these tidings, her eyes flashed like a cat's in
the dark. "Who told him that? She would not believe it, unless
some one else confirmed the story."
So he answered--"That any one could confirm it, for the whole
castle was filled with workmen making preparations for their
reception; the bridal chamber had been hung with new tapestry, and
painters and carvers were busy all day long painting and carving
the united arms of Pomerania and Brunswick upon all the furniture
and glass."
_Illa_.--"Well, she would go into the town to inquire, and if
his tale were true, and that he swore to marry her, he should have
the chain."
_Ille_.--"There was a carver going by with his basket and
tools--let her call him in, and hear what he said on the matter."
So my cunning fellow called out to the workman, who stepped in
presently with his basket, and assured the lady politely, that in
fourteen days the young Duke of Wolgast and his princely bride
were to arrive at the castle, for the Court Marshal had told him
this himself, and given him orders to have a large number of
glasses cut with their united arms ready with all diligence.
When Sidonia heard this, and saw the glasses in his basket, she
handed the golden chain to Johann, and the carver went his way.
Then the aforesaid rogue fell down on his knees, swearing to marry
her, and never to leave her more, for she had now given him all;
and if this, too, were lost, she must beg her way to Zachow.
So the gallows-bird went off with the chain, turned it into money,
drank and caroused, and with the remainder set off for Lastadie,
to meet the ringleaders, near the ducal fishhouse, as agreed upon.
But Master Konneman had only been able to gather ten fellows
together; the others held back, though they had talked so boldly
at first, thinking, no doubt, that when the courts of justice were
reopened, they would all be brought to the gallows.
So Johann thought the number too small for his purposes, and
agreed with the others to send an envoy to the robber-band of the
Stargard Wood, proposing a league between them, and offering
himself (Johann Appelmann, a knight of excellent family and
endowments) as their captain. Should they consent, the said Johann
would give them right good handsel; and on the appointed day, meet
them in the forest, with his illustrious and noble bride; and as a
sign whereby they should know him, he would whistle three times
loudly when he approached the wood.
Konneman undertook to be the bearer of the message, and returned
in a few days, declaring that the robbers had received the
proposal with joy. He found them encamped under a large nut-tree
in the forest, roasting a sheep upon a spear, at a large fire. So
they made him sit down and eat with them, and told him it was a
right jolly life, with no ruler but the great God above them.
Better to live under the free heaven than die in their squalid
cabins. The band was strong, besides many who had joined lately,
since the bankruptcy of Hans Loitz, and there were some gipsies
too, amongst whom was an old hag who told fortunes, and had lately
prophesied to the band that a great prize was in store for them;
they had just returned with some booty from the little town of
Damm, where they had committed a robbery. One of their party,
however, had been taken there.
When Johann heard the good result of his message, he summoned all
his followers to another meeting at the ducal fish-house, gave
them each money, and swore them to fidelity; then bid them
disperse, and slip singly to the band, to avoid observation, and
he would himself meet them in the forest next day.