_How our need waxed sorer and sorer, and how I sent old Ilse
with another letter to Pudgla, and how heavy a misfortune this
brought upon me_.
Next day, when I had buried the poor corpses amid the lamentations
of the whole village (by the same token that they were all buried
under where the lime-tree overhangs the wall [Footnote: This
exists no longer.]), I heard with many sighs that neither the sea
nor the Achterwater would yield anything. It was now ten days
since the poor people had caught a single fish. I therefore went
out into the field, musing how the wrath of the just God might be
turned from us, seeing that the cruel winter was now at hand, and
neither corn, apples, fish nor flesh, to be found in the village,
nor even throughout all the parish. There was indeed plenty of
game in the forests of Coserow and Uekeritze; but the old forest
ranger, Zabel Nehring, had died last year of the plague, and there
was no new one in his place. Nor was there a musket nor a grain of
powder to be found in all the parish; the enemy had robbed and
broken everything: we were therefore forced, day after day, to see
how the stags and the roes, the hares and the wild boars, &c., ran
past us, when we would so gladly have had them in our bellies, but
had no means of getting at them: for they were too cunning to let
themselves be caught in pit-falls. Nevertheless, Claus Peer
succeeded in trapping a roe, and gave me a piece of it, for which
may God reward him. _Item_, of domestic cattle there was not
a head left; neither was there a dog nor a cat, which the people
had not either eaten in their extreme hunger, or knocked on the
head, or drowned long since. Albeit old farmer Paasch still owned
two cows; _item_, an old man in Uekeritze was said to have
one little pig--this was all. Thus, then, nearly all the people
lived on blackberries and other wild fruits; the which also soon
grew to be scarce, as may easily be guessed. Besides all this, a
boy of fourteen was missing (old Labahn his son), and was never
more heard of, so that I shrewdly think that the wolves devoured
him.
And now let any Christian judge by his own heart in what sorrow
and heaviness I took my staff in my hand, seeing that my child
fell away like a shadow from pinching hunger; although I myself,
being old, did not, by the help of God's mercy, find any great
failing in my strength. While I thus went continually weeping
before the Lord, on the way to Uekeritze, I fell in with an old
beggar with his wallet, sitting on a stone, and eating a piece of
God's rare gift, to wit, a bit of bread. Then truly did my poor
mouth so fill with water, that I was forced to bow my head and let
it run upon the earth before I could ask, "Who art thou? and
whence comest thou, seeing that thou hast bread?" Whereupon he
answered that he was a poor man of Bannemin, from whom the enemy
had taken all; and as he had heard that the Lieper Winkel
[Footnote: A remote part of the island of Usedom.] had long been
in peace, he had travelled thither to beg. I straightway answered
him, "Oh, poor beggar man, spare to me, a sorrowful servant of
Christ, who is poorer even than thyself, one little slice of bread
for his wretched child; for thou must know that I am the pastor of
this village, and that my daughter is dying of hunger. I beseech
thee, by the living God, not to let me depart without taking pity
on me, as pity also hath been shown to thee!" But the beggar man
would give me none, saying that he himself had a wife and four
children, who were likewise staggering towards death's door under
the bitter pangs of hunger; that the famine was sorer far in
Bannemin than here, where we still had berries; whether I had not
heard that but a few days ago a woman (he told me her name, but
horror made me forget it) had there killed her own child, and
devoured it from hunger? [Footnote: Micraslius also mentions this
horrible event in his History of Pomerania.] That he could not
therefore help me, and I might go to the Lieper Winkel myself.
I was horror-stricken at his tale, as is easy to guess, for we in
our own trouble had not yet heard of it, there being little or no
traffic between one village and another; and thinking on
Jerusalem, [Footnote: Where, according to Josephus, the same thing
occurred.] and sheer despairing because the Lord had visited us,
as of old that ungodly city, although we had not betrayed or
crucified Him, I almost forgot all my necessities, and took my
staff in my hand to depart. But I had not gone more than a few
yards when the beggar called me to stop, and when I turned myself
round he came towards me with a good hunch of bread which he had
taken out of his wallet, and said, "There! but pray for me also,
so that I may reach my home; for if on the road they smell that I
have bread, my own brother would strike me dead, I believe." This
I promised with joy, and instantly turned back to take to my child
the gift hidden in my pocket. And behold, when I came to the road
which leads to Loddin, I could scarce trust my eyes (before I had
overlooked it in my distress) when I saw my glebe, which could
produce seven bushels, ploughed, sown, and in stalk; the blessed
crop of rye had already shot lustily out of the earth a finger's
length in height. I could not choose but think that the evil one
had deceived me with a false show, yet, however hard I rubbed my
eyes, rye it was, and rye it remained. And seeing that old Paasch
his piece of land which joined mine was in like manner sown, and
that the blades had shot up to the same height, I soon guessed
that the good fellow had done this deed, seeing that all the other
land lay waste. Wherefore, I readily forgave him for not knowing
the morning prayer; and thanking the Lord for so much love from my
flock, and earnestly beseeching Him to grant me strength and faith
to bear with them, steadfastly and patiently, all the troubles and
adversities which it might please Him henceforward to lay upon us,
according to His divine pleasure, I ran rather than walked back
into the village to old Paasch his farm, where I found him just
about to kill his cow, which he was slaughtering from grim hunger.
"God bless thee," said I, "worthy friend, for sowing my field, how
shall I reward thee?" But the old man answered, "Let that be, and
do you pray for us;" and when I gladly promised this, and asked
him how he had kept his corn safe from the savage enemy, he told
me that he had hidden it secretly in the caves of the
Streckelberg, but that now all his store was used up. Meanwhile he
cut a fine large piece of meat from the top of the loin, and said,
"There is something for you, and when that is gone you can come
again for more." As I was then about to go with many thanks, his
little Mary, a child nearly seven years old, the same who had said
the _Gratlas_ on the Streckelberg, seized me by the hand, and
wanted to go to school to my daughter; for since my _Custos_,
as above mentioned, departed this life in the plague, she had to
teach the few little ones there were in the village; this,
however, had long been abandoned. I could not, therefore, deny
her, although I feared that my child would share her bread with
her, seeing that she dearly loved the little maid, who was her
godchild; and so indeed it happened; for when the child saw me
take out the bread, she shrieked for joy, and began to scramble up
on the bench. Thus she also got a piece of the slice, our maid got
another, and my child put the third piece into her own mouth, as I
wished for none, but said that I felt no signs of hunger, and
would wait until the meat was boiled, the which I now threw upon
the bench. It was a goodly sight to see the joy which my poor
child felt, when I then also told her about the rye. She fell upon
my neck, wept, sobbed, then took the little one up in her arms,
danced about the room with her, and recited, as she was wont, all
manner of Latin _versus_, which she knew by heart. Then she
would prepare a right good supper for us, as a little salt was
still left in the bottom of a barrel of meat which the
Imperialists had broken up. I let her take her own way, and having
scraped some soot from the chimney and mixed it with water, I tore
a blank leaf out of _Virgillus_, and wrote to the _Pastor
Liepensts_, his reverence Abraham Tiburtius, praying that for
God His sake he would take our necessities to heart, and would
exhort his parishioners to save us from dying of grim hunger, and
charitably to spare to us some meat and drink, according as the
all-merciful God had still left some to them, seeing that a beggar
had told me that they had long been in peace from the terrible
enemy. I knew not, however, wherewithal to seal the letter, until
I found in the church a little wax still sticking to a wooden
altar-candlestick, which the Imperialists had not thought it worth
their while to steal, for they had only taken the brass ones. I
sent three fellows in a boat with Hinrich Seden, the churchwarden,
with this letter to Liepe.
First, however, I asked my old Ilse, who was born in Liepe,
whether she would not rather return home, seeing how matters
stood, and that I, for the present at least, could not give her a
stiver of her wages (mark that she had already saved up a small
sum, seeing that she had lived in my service above twenty years,
but the soldiers had taken it all). Howbeit, I could nowise
persuade her to this, but she wept bitterly, and besought me only
to let her stay with the good damsel whom she had rocked in her
cradle. She would cheerfully hunger with us if it needs must be,
so that she were not turned away. Whereupon, I yielded to her, and
the others went alone.
Meanwhile the broth was ready, but scarce had we said the
_Gratias_, and were about to begin our meal, when all the
children of the village, seven in number, came to the door, and
wanted bread, as they had heard we had some from my daughter her
little godchild. Her heart again melted, and notwithstanding I
besought her to harden herself against them, she comforted me with
the message to Liepe, and poured out for each child a portion of
broth on a wooden platter (for these also had been despised by the
enemy), and put into their little hands a bit of meat, so that all
our store was eaten up at once. We were, therefore, left fasting
next morning, till towards midday, when the whole village gathered
together in a meadow on the banks of the river to see the boat
return. But, God be merciful to us, we had cherished vain hopes!
six loaves and a sheep, _item_, a quarter of apples, was all
they had brought. His reverence Abraham Tiburtius wrote to me that
after the cry of their wealth had spread throughout the island, so
many beggars had flocked thither that it was impossible to be just
to all, seeing that they themselves did not know how it might fare
with them in these heavy troublous times. Meanwhile he would see
whether he could raise any more. I therefore with many sighs had
the small pittance carried to the manse, and though two loaves
were, as _Pastor Liepensis_ said in his letter, for me alone,
I gave them up to be shared among all alike, whereat all were
content save Seden his squint-eyed wife, who would have had
somewhat extra on the score of her husband's journey, which,
however, as may be easily guessed, she did not get; wherefore she
again muttered certain words between her teeth as she went away,
which, however, no one understood. Truly she was an ill woman, and
not to be moved by the Word of God.
Any one may judge for himself that such a store could not last
long; and as all my parishioners felt an ardent longing after
spiritual food, and as I and the churchwardens could only get
together about sixteen farthings in the whole parish, which was
not enough to buy bread and wine, the thought struck me once more
to inform my lord the sheriff of our need. With how heavy a heart
I did this may be easily guessed, but necessity knows no law. I
therefore tore the last blank leaf out of _Virgilius_, and
begged that, for the sake of the Holy Trinity, his lordship would
mercifully consider mine own distress and that of the whole
parish, and bestow a little money to enable me to administer the
Holy Sacrament for the comfort of afflicted souls; also, if
possible, to buy a cup, were it only of tin, since the enemy had
plundered us of ours, and I should otherwise be forced to
consecrate the sacred elements in an earthen vessel. _Item_,
I besought him to have pity on our bodily wants, and at last to
send me the first-fruits which had stood over for so many years.
That I did not want it for myself alone, but would willingly share
it with my parishioners, until such time as God in His mercy
should give us more.
Here a huge blot fell upon my paper; for the windows being boarded
up, the room was dark, and but little light came through two small
panes of glass, which I had broken out of the church, and stuck in
between the boards: this, perhaps, was the reason why I did not
see better. However, as I could not anywhere get another piece of
paper, I let it pass, and ordered the maid, whom I sent with the
letter to Pudgla, to excuse the same to his lordship the sheriff,
the which she promised to do; seeing that I could not add a word
more on the paper, as it was written all over. I then sealed it as
I had done before.
But the poor creature came back trembling for fear, and bitterly
weeping, and said that his lordship had kicked her out of the
castle-gate, and had threatened to set her in the stocks if she
ever came before him again. "Did the parson think that he was as
free with his money as I seemed to be with my ink? I surely had
water enough to celebrate the Lord's Supper wherewithal. For if
the Son of God had once changed the water into wine, He could
surely do the like again. If I had no cup, I might water my flock
out of a bucket, as he did himself;" with many more blasphemies,
such as he afterwards wrote to me, and by which, as may easily be
guessed, I was filled with horror. Touching the first-fruits, as
she told me, he said nothing at all. In such great spiritual and
bodily need the blessed Sunday came round, when nearly all the
congregation would have come to the Lord's table, but could not. I
therefore spoke on the words of St. Augustine, _crede et
manducasti_, and represented that the blame was not mine, and
truly told what had happened to my poor maid at Pudgla, passing
over much in silence, and only praying God to awaken the hearts of
magistrates for our good. Peradventure I may have spoken more
harshly than I meant. I know not; only that I spoke that which was
in my heart. At the end I made all the congregation stay on their
knees for nearly an hour, and call upon the Lord for His holy
Sacrament; _item_, for the relief of their bodily wants, as
had been done every Sunday, and at all the daily prayers I had
been used to read ever since the heavy time of the plague. Last of
all, I led the glorious hymn, "When in greatest need we be," which
was no sooner finished than my new churchwarden, Claus Bulk of
Uekeritze, who had formerly been a groom with his lordship, and
whom he had now put into a farm, ran off to Pudgla, and told him
all that had taken place in the church. Whereat his lordship was
greatly angered, insomuch that he summoned the whole parish, which
still numbered about 150 souls, without counting the children, and
dictated _ad protocollum_ whatsoever they could remember of
the sermon, seeing that he meant to inform his princely Grace the
Duke of Pomerania of the blasphemous lies which I had vomited
against him, and which must sorely offend every Christian heart.
_Item_, what an avaricious wretch I must be to be always
wanting something of him, and to be daily, so to say, pestering
him in these hard times with my filthy letters, when he had not
enough to eat himself. This, he said, should break the parson his
neck, since his princely Grace did all that he asked of him; and
that no one in the parish need give me anything more, but only let
me go my ways. He would soon take care that they should have quite
a different sort of parson from what I was.
(Now I would like to see the man who could make up his mind to
come into the midst of such wretchedness at all.)
This news was brought to me in the self-same night, and gave me a
great fright, as I now saw that I should not have a gracious
master in his lordship, but should all the time of my miserable
life, even if I could anyhow support it, find in him an ungracious
lord. But I soon felt some comfort, when Chim Krüger, from
Uekeritze, who brought me the news, took a little bit of his
sucking-pig out of his pocket and gave it to me. Meanwhile old
Paasch came in and said the same, and likewise brought me a piece
of his old cow; _item_, my other warden, Hinrich Seden, with
a slice of bread, and a fish which he had taken in his net; all
saying they wished for no better priest than me, and that I was
only to pray to the merciful Lord to bestow more upon them,
whereupon I should want for nothing. Meanwhile I must be quiet,
and not betray them. All this I promised; and my daughter Mary
took the blessed gifts of God off the table and carried them into
the inner chamber. But, alas! next morning, when she would have
put the meat into the cauldron, it was all gone. I know not who
prepared this new sorrow for me, but much believe it was Hinrich
Seden his wicked wife, seeing he can never hold his tongue, and
most likely told her everything. Moreover, Paasch his little
daughter saw that she had meat in her pot next day; _item_,
that she had quarrelled with her husband, and had flung the
fish-board at him, whereon some fresh fish-scales were sticking:
she had, however, presently recollected herself when she saw the
child. (Shame on thee, thou old witch, it is true enough, I dare
say!) Hereupon naught was left us but to feed our poor souls with
the Word of God. But even our souls were so cast down that they
could receive naught, any more than our bellies; my poor child,
especially, from day to day grew paler, greyer, and yellower, and
always threw up all her food, seeing she ate it without salt or
bread. I had long wondered that the bread from Liepe was not yet
done, but that every day at dinner I still had a morsel. I had
often asked, "Whence comes all this blessed bread? I believe,
after all, you save the whole for me, and take none for yourself
or the maid." But they both then lifted to their mouths a piece of
fir-tree bark, which they had cut to look like bread, and laid by
their plates; and as the room was dark, I did not find out their
deceit, but thought that they too were eating bread. But at last
the maid told me of it, so that I should allow it no longer, as my
daughter would not listen to her. It is not hard to guess how my
heart was wrung when I saw my poor child lying on her bed of moss
struggling with grim hunger. But things were to go yet harder with
me, for the Lord in His anger would break me in pieces like a
potter's vessel. For behold, on the evening of the same day, old
Paasch came running to me, complaining that all his and my corn in
the field had been pulled up and miserably destroyed, and that it
must have been done by Satan himself, as there was not a trace
either of oxen or horses. At these words my poor child screamed
aloud and fainted. I would have run to help her, but could not
reach her bed, and fell on the ground myself for bitter grief. The
loud cries of the maid and old Paasch soon brought us both to our
senses. But I could not rise from the ground alone, for the Lord
had bruised all my bones. I besought them, therefore, when they
would have helped me, to leave me where I was; and when they would
not, I cried out that I must again fall on the ground to pray, and
begged them all save my daughter to depart out of the room. This
they did, but the prayer would not come. I fell into heavy
doubting and despair, and murmured against the Lord that He
plagued me more sorely than Lazarus or Job. Wretch that I was, I
cried, "Thou didst leave to Lazarus at least the crumbs and the
pitiful dogs, but to me Thou hast left nothing, and I myself am
less in Thy sight even than a dog; and Job Thou didst not afflict
until Thou hadst mercifully taken away his children, but to me
Thou hast left my poor little daughter, that her torments may
increase mine own a thousandfold. Behold, then, I can only pray
that Thou wilt take her from the earth, so that my grey head may
gladly follow her to the grave! Woe is me, ruthless father, what
have I done? I have eaten bread, and suffered my child to hunger!
O Lord Jesu, who hast said, 'What man is there of you, whom if his
son ask bread will he give him a stone?' Behold, I am that
man!--behold, I am that ruthless father! I have eaten bread, and
have given wood to my child! Punish me; I will bear it and lie
still. O righteous Jesu, I have eaten bread, and have given wood
to my child!" As I did not speak, but rather shrieked these words,
wringing my hands the while, my child fell upon my neck, sobbing,
and chide me for murmuring against the Lord, seeing that even she,
a weak and frail woman, had never doubted His mercy; so that with
shame and repentance I presently came to myself, and humbled
myself before the Lord for such heavy sin.
Meanwhile the maid had run into the village with loud cries to see
if she could get anything for her poor young mistress, but the
people had already eaten their noontide meal, and most of them
were gone to sea to seek their blessed supper; thus she could find
nothing, seeing that old wife Seden, who alone had any victuals,
would give her none, although she prayed her by Jesu's wounds.
She was telling us this when we heard a noise in the chamber, and
presently Lizzie her worthy old husband, who had got in at the
window by stealth, brought us a pot of good broth, which he had
taken off the fire whilst his wife was gone for a moment into the
garden. He well knew that his wife would make him pay for it, but
that he did not mind, so the young mistress would but drink it,
and she would find it salted and all. He would make haste out of
the window again, and see that he got home before his wife, that
she might not find out where he had been. But my daughter would
not touch the broth, which sorely vexed him, so that he set it
down on the ground cursing, and ran out of the room. It was not
long before his squint-eyed wife came in at the front door, and
when she saw the pot still steaming on the ground, she cried out,
"Thou thief, thou cursed thieving carcass!" and would have flown
at the face of my maid. But I threatened her, and told her all
that had happened, and that if she would not believe me, she might
go into the chamber and look out of the window, whence she might
still, belike, see her goodman running home. This she did, and
presently we heard her calling after him, "Wait, and the devil
shall tear off thine arms, only wait till thou art home again!"
After this she came back, and, muttering something, took the pot
off the ground. I begged her, for the love of God, to spare a
little to my child; but she mocked at me and said, "You can preach
to her, as you did to me," and walked towards the door with the
pot. My child indeed besought me to let her go, but I could not
help calling after her, "For the love of God, one good sup, or my
poor child must give up the ghost: wilt thou that at the day of
judgment God should have mercy on thee, so show mercy this day to
me and mine!" But she scoffed at us again, and cried out, "Let her
cook herself some bacon," and went out at the door. I then sent
the maid after her with the hour-glass which stood before me on
the table, to offer it to her for a good sup out of the pot; but
the maid brought it back, saying that she would not have it. Alas,
how I wept and sobbed, as my poor dying child with a loud sigh
buried her head again in the moss! Yet the merciful God was more
gracious to me than my unbelief had deserved; for when the
hard-hearted woman bestowed a little broth on her neighbour, old
Paasch, he presently brought it to my child, having heard from the
maid how it stood with her; and I believe that this broth, under
God, alone saved her life, for she raised her head as soon as she
had supped it, and was able to go about the house again in an
hour. May God reward the good fellow for it! Thus I had some joy
in the midst of my trouble. But while I sat by the fireside in the
evening musing on my fate, my grief again broke forth, and I made
up my mind to leave my house, and even my cure, and to wander
through the wide world with my daughter as a beggar. God knows I
had cause enough for it; for now that all my hopes were dashed,
seeing that my field was quite ruined, and that the sheriff had
become my bitter enemy, moreover that it was five years since I
had had a wedding, _item_, but two christenings during the
past year, I saw my own and my daughter's death staring me in the
face, and no prospect of better times at hand. Our want was
increased by the great fears of the congregation; for although by
God's wondrous mercy they had already begun to take good draughts
of fish both in the sea and the Achterwater, and many of the
people in the other villages had already gotten bread, salt,
oatmeal, &c., from the Pokers and Quatzners of Anklam and Lassan
[Footnote: These people still go about the Achterwater every day
in small boats called Polten and Quatzen, and buy from the boors
any fish they may have caught.] in exchange for their fish;
nevertheless, they brought me nothing, fearing lest it might be
told at Pudgla, and make his lordship ungracious to them. I
therefore beckoned my daughter to me, and told her what was in my
thoughts, saying that God, in His mercy, could any day bestow on
me another cure if I was found worthy in His sight of such a
favour, seeing that these terrible days of pestilence and war had
called away many of the servants of His Word, and that I had not
fled like a hireling from His flock, but, on the contrary, till
_datum_ shared sorrow and death with it. Whether she were
able to walk five or ten miles a day; for that then we would beg
our way to Hamburg, to my departed wife her stepbrother, Martin
Behring, who is a great merchant in that city.
This at first sounded strange to her, seeing that she had very
seldom been out of our parish, and that her departed mother and
her little brother lay in our churchyard. She asked, "Who was to
make up their graves and plant flowers on them? _Item_, as
the Lord had given her a smooth face, what I should do if in these
wild and cruel times she were attacked on the highways by
marauding soldiers or other villains, seeing that I was a weak old
man and unable to defend her; _item_, wherewithal should we
shield ourselves from the frost, as the winter was setting in, and
the enemy had robbed us of our clothes, so that we had scarce
enough left to cover our nakedness?" All this I had not
considered, and was forced to own that she was right; so after
much discussion we determined to leave it this night to the Lord,
and to do whatever He should put into our hearts next morning. At
any rate, we saw that we could in nowise keep the old maid any
longer; I therefore called her out of the kitchen, and told her
she had better go early next morning to Liepe, as there still was
food there, whereas here she must starve, seeing that perhaps we
ourselves might leave the parish and the country to-morrow. I
thanked her for the love and faith she had shown us, and begged
her at last, amid the loud sobs of my poor daughter, to depart
forthwith privately, and not to make our hearts still heavier by
leave-taking; that old Paasch was going a-fishing to-night on the
Achterwater, as he had told me, and no doubt would readily set her
on shore at Grussow, where she had friends, and could eat her fill
even to-day. She could not say a word for weeping, but when she
saw that I was really in earnest she went out of the room. Not
long after we heard the house-door shut to, whereupon my daughter
moaned, "She is gone already," and ran straight to the window to
look after her. "Yes," cried, she, as she saw her through the
little panes, "she is really gone;" and she wrung her hands and
would not be comforted. At last, however, she was quieted when I
spoke of the maid Hagar, whom Abraham had likewise cast off, but
on whom the Lord had nevertheless shown mercy in the wilderness;
and hereupon we commended ourselves to the Lord, and stretched
ourselves on our couches of moss.