Caspar to her, and said, "Behold, the Evil One is striving to
possess thy soul!" and thereupon she began to strike him on head
and breast with the wedge. Caspar staggered back; she pursued him,
striking him and cutting his head open, so that he was covered with
blood. As he afterwards declared, he had not the smallest thought of
resistance; the power to oppose her seemed to be taken from him. At
length, half stunned, he fell to the ground, and was carried to his
bed by his father and the maid Jäggli. The old man no more returned
upstairs, consequently he was not present at the terrible scene
that ensued. But he took no steps to prevent it. Not only so, but
he warded off all interruption from without. Whilst he was below,
someone knocked at the door. At that moment Susanna was in the room
with him, and he bade her inquire who was without. The man gave his
name as Elias Vogal, a mason, and asked leave to come in. Old Peter
refused, as he said the surgeon was within. Elias endeavoured to
push his way in but was resisted, and the door barred against him.
Vogel went away, and meeting a policeman told him what had taken
place, and added that he had noticed blood-stains on the sleeves of
both old Peter and Susanna. The policeman, thinking that Peter's
lie was truth, and that the surgeon was really in the house, and had
been bleeding the half-crazy people there, took no further notice of
what he had heard, and went his way.
Meanwhile, in the upper room the comedy had been changed into a
ghastly tragedy. As soon as the wounded Caspar had been removed, the
three sisters, Barbara, Magdalena, and Susanna left the room, the
two latter, however, only for a short while. Then the holy Margaret
said to those who remained with her, "To-day is a day of great
events. The contest has been long and must now be decided. Blood
must flow. I see the spirit of my mother calling to me to offer up
my life." After a pause she said, "And you--all--are you ready to
give your lives?" They all responded eagerly that they were. Then
said Margaret, "No, no; I see you will not readily die. But I--I
must die."
Thereupon Elizabeth exclaimed, "I will gladly die for the saving of
the souls of my brother and father. Strike me dead, strike me dead!"
Then she threw herself on the bed and began to batter her head with
a wooden mallet.
"It has been revealed to me," said Margaret, "that Elizabeth will
sacrifice herself." Then taking up the iron hammer, she struck her
sister on the head. At once a spiritual fury seized on all the
elect souls, and seizing weapons they began to beat the poor girl
to death. Margaret in her mania struck at random about her, and
wounded both John Moser and Ursula Kündig. Then she suddenly caught
the latter by the wrist and bade her kill Elizabeth with the iron
wedge. Ursula shrank back, "I cannot! I love her too dearly!" "You
must," screamed the saint; "it is ordained." "I am ready to die"
moaned Elizabeth. "I cannot! I cannot!" cried Ursula. "You must,"
shouted Margaret. "I will raise my sister again, and I also will
rise again after three days. May God strengthen your arm."
As though a demoniacal influence flowed out of the holy maid, and
maddened those about her, all were again seized with frenzy. John
Moser snatched the hammer out of her hand, and smote the prostrate
girl with it again, and yet again, on head and bosom and shoulders.
Susanna brought down a crow-bar across her body, the servant-man
Heinrich belaboured her with a fragment of the floor planking,
and Ursula, swept away by the current, beat in her skull with the
wedge. Throughout the turmoil, the holy maid yelled: "God strengthen
your arms! Ursula, strike home! Die for Christ, Elizabeth!" The
last words heard from the martyred girl were an exclamation of
resignation to the will of God, as expressed by her sister.
One would have supposed that when the life was thus battered out
of the unfortunate victim, the murderers would have come to their
senses and been filled with terror and remorse. But it was not so.
Margaret sat beside the body of her murdered sister, the blaze of
spiritual ecstasy in her eyes, the blood-stained hammer in her
right hand, terrible in her inflexible determination, and in the
demoniacal energy which was to possess her to the last breath she
drew. Her bosom heaved, her body quivered, but her voice was firm
and her tone authoritative, as she said, "More blood must flow. I
have pledged myself for the saving of many souls. I must die now.
You must crucify me." John Moser and Ursula, shivering with horror,
entreated, "O do not demand that of us." She replied, "It is better
that I should die than that thousands of souls should perish."
So saying she struck herself with the hammer on the left temple.
Then she held out the weapon to John Moser, and ordered him and
Ursula to batter her with it. Both hesitated for a moment.
"What!" cried Margaret turning to her favourite disciple, "will you
not do this? Strike and may God brace your arm!" Moser and Ursula
now struck her with the hammer, but not so as to stun her.
"And now," said she with raised voice, "crucify me! You, Ursula,
must do the deed."
"I cannot! I cannot!" sobbed the wretched girl.
"What! will you withdraw your hand from the work of God, now the
hour approaches? You will be responsible for all the souls that will
be lost, unless you fulfil what I have appointed you to do."
"But O! not I--!" pleaded Ursula.
"Yes--you. If the police authorities had executed me, it would not
have fallen to you to do this, but now it is for you to accomplish
the work. Go, Susan, and fetch nails, and the rest of you make ready
the cross."
In the meantime, Heinrich, the man-servant, frightened at what had
taken place, and not wishing to have anything more to do with the
horrible scene in the upper chamber, had gone quietly down into
the wood-house, and was making stakes for the vines. There Susanna
found him, and asked him for nails, telling him for what they were
designed. He composedly picked her out nails of suitable length, and
then resumed his work of making vine stakes. Susanna re-ascended to
the upper room, and found Margaret extended on the bed beside the
body of Elizabeth, with the arms, breast, and feet resting on blocks
of wood, arranged, whilst Susanna was absent, by John Moser and
Ursula, under her in the fashion of a cross.
Then began the horrible act of crucifixion, which is only
conceivable as an outburst of religious mania, depriving all who
took part in it of every feeling of humanity, and degrading them
to the level of beasts of prey. At the subsequent trial, both
Ursula and John Moser described their condition as one of spiritual
intoxication.
The hands and feet of the victim were nailed to the blocks of wood.
Then Ursula's head swam, and she drew back. Again Margaret called
her to continue her horrible work. "Go on! go on! God strengthen
your arm. I will raise Elizabeth from the dead, and rise myself in
three days." Nails were driven through both elbows and also through
the breasts of Margaret; not for one moment did the victim express
pain, nor did her courage fail her. No Indian at the stake endured
the cruel ingenuity of his tormentors with more stoicism than did
this young woman bear the martyrdom she had invoked for herself.
She impressed her murderers with the idea that she was endowed with
supernatural strength. It could not be otherwise, for what she
endured was beyond the measure of human strength. That in the place
of human endurance she was possessed with the Berserker strength
of the _furor religiosus_, was what these ignorant peasants could
not possibly know. Conrad Moser could barely support himself from
fainting, sick and horror-struck at the scene. He exclaimed, "Is
not this enough?" His brother, John, standing at the foot of the
bed, looked into space with glassy eyes. Ursula, bathed in tears,
was bowed over the victim. Magdalena Moser had taken no active part
in the crucifixion; she remained the whole time, weeping, leaning
against a chest.
The dying woman smiled. "I feel no pain. Be yourselves strong," she
whispered. "Now, drive a nail or a knife through my heart."
Ursula endeavoured to do as bidden, but her hand shook and the knife
was bent. "Beat in my skull!" this was the last word spoken by
Margaret. In their madness Conrad Moser and Ursula Kündig obeyed,
one with the crowbar, the other with the hammer.
It was noon when the sacrifice was accomplished--dinner-time.
Accordingly, all descended to the sitting-room, where the meal that
Margaret Jäggli had been in the meantime preparing was served and
eaten.
They had scarce finished before a policeman entered with a paper for
old Peter to sign, in which he made himself answerable to produce
his daughters before the magistrates when and where required.
He signed it with composure, "I declare that I will cause my
daughters, if in good health, to appear before the Upper Amtsmann in
Andelfingen when so required." Then the policeman departed without
a suspicion that the two girls were lying dead in the room above.
On Sunday the 16th, the servant Heinrich was sent on horseback to
Illnau to summon Jacob Morf to come to Wildisbuch and witness a
great miracle. Jacob came there with Heinrich, but was not told the
circumstances of the crucifixion till he reached the house. When he
heard what had happened, he was frightened almost out of his few
wits, and when taken upstairs to see the bodies, he fainted away.
Nothing--no representations would induce him to remain for the
miraculous resurrection, and he hastened back to Illnau, where he
took to his bed. In his alarm and horror he sent for the pastor, and
told him what he had seen.
But the rest of the holy community remained stead-fast in their
faith. On the night of Sunday before Monday morning broke, Ursula
Kündig and the servant man Heinrich went upstairs with pincers and
drew out the nails that transfixed Margaretta. When asked their
reason for so doing, at the subsequent trial, they said that they
supposed this would facilitate Margaretta's resurrection. _Sanctus
furor_ had made way for _sancta simplicitas_.
The night of Monday to Tuesday was spent in prayer and
Scripture-reading in the upper chamber, and eager expectation of the
promised miracle, which never took place. The catastrophe could no
longer be concealed. Something must be done. On Tuesday, old John
Peter pulled on his jacket and walked to Trüllikon to inform the
pastor that his daughter Elizabeth had died on the Saturday at 10
a.m., and his daughter Margaretta at noon of the same day.
We need say little more. On Dec. 3rd, 1823, the trial of all
incriminated in this frightful tragedy took place at Zürich and
sentence was pronounced on the following day. Ursula Kündig was
sentenced to sixteen years' imprisonment, Conrad Moser and John
Peter to eight years, Susanna Peter and John Moser to six years,
Heinrich Ernst to four years, Jacob Morf to three, Margaret Jäggli
to two years, Barbara Baumann and Casper Peter to one year, and
Magdalena Moser to six months with hard labour. The house at
Wildisbuch was ordered to be levelled with the dust, the plough
drawn over the foundation, and that no house should again be erected
on the spot.
Before the destruction, however, a pilgrimage of Pietists and
believers in Margaret Peter had visited the scene of her death, and
many had been the exclamations of admiration at her conduct. "Oh,
that it had been I who had died!" "Oh, how many souls must she have
delivered!" and the like. _Magna est stultitia et prævalebit._
At a time like the present, when there is a wave of warm, mystic
fever sweeping over the country, and carrying away with it
thousands of ignorant and impetuous souls, it is well that the
story--repulsive though it be--should be brought into notice, as
a warning of what this spiritual excitement may lead to--not,
indeed, again, maybe, into bloodshed. It is far more likely to lead
to, as it has persistently, in every similar outbreak, into moral
disorders, the record of which, in the case of Margaretta Peter, we
have passed over almost without a word.
Authority: Die Gekreuzigte von Wildisbuch, von J. Scherr, 2nd
Edit., St. Gall. 1867. Scherr visited the spot, collected
information from eye-witnesses, and made copious extracts from
the records of the trial in the Zürich archives, where they are
contained in Vol. 166, folio 1044, under the heading: "Akten
betreffened die Gräuel--Scenen in Wildisbuch."
A Northern Raphael.
Here and there in the galleries of North Germany and Russia may
be seen paintings of delicacy and purity, delicacy of colour and
purity of design, the author of which was Gerhard von Kügelgen.
The majority of his paintings are in private hands; but an Apollo,
holding the dying Hyacinthus in his arms, is in the possession of
the German Emperor; Moses on Horeb is in the gallery of the Academy
of Fine Arts at Dresden; a St. Cæcilia and an Adonis, painted in
1794 and 1795, were purchased by the Earl of Bristol; a Holy Family
is in the Gallery at Cassel; and some of the sacred subjects have
found their way into churches.
In 1772, the wife of Franz Kügelgen, a merchant of Bacharach on the
Rhine, presented her husband with twin sons, the elder of whom by
fifteen minutes is the subject of this notice. His brother was named
Karl. Their resemblance was so great that even their mother found a
difficulty in their early childhood in distinguishing one from the
other.
Bacharach was in the Electorate of Cologne, and when the
Archbishop-Elector, Maximilian Franz, learned that the twins were
fond of art, in 1791 he very liberally gave them a handsome sum
of money to enable them to visit Rome and there prosecute their
studies.
Gerhard was at once fascinated by the statuary in the Vatican, and
by the pictures of Raphael. The ambition of his life thenceforward
was to combine the beauty of modelling of the human form that he
saw in the Græco-Roman statues with the beauty of colour that he
recognised in Raphael's canvases. Karl, on the other hand, devoted
himself to landscapes.
In 1795 the brothers separated, Gerhard that he might visit Munich.
Thence, in the autumn, he went to Riga with a friend, and there he
remained rather over two years, and painted and disposed of some
fifty-four pictures. Then he painted in St. Petersburg and Revel,
and finally settled into married life and regular work at Dresden
in 1806. There he became a general favourite, not only on account
of his artistic genius, but also because of the fascination of
his modest and genial manner. He was honoured by the Court, and
respected by everyone for his virtues. Orders flowed in on him, and
his paintings commanded good prices. The king of Saxony ennobled
him, that is to say, raised him out of the bürger-stand, by giving
him the privilege of writing a _Von_ before his patronymic.
Having received an order from Riga for a large altar picture, he
bought a vineyard on the banks of the Elbe, commanding a charming
prospect of the river and the distant blue Bohemian mountains. Here
he resolved to erect a country house for the summer, with a large
studio lighted from the north. The construction of this residence
was to him a great pleasure and occupation. In November, 1819,
he wrote to his brother, "My house shall be to us a veritable
fairy palace, in which to dwell till the time comes, when through
a little, narrow and dark door we pass through into that great
habitation of the Heavenly Father in which are many mansions, and
where our whole family will be re-united. Should it please God to
call me away, then Lily (his wife) will find this an agreeable
dower-house, in which she can supervise the education of the
children, as the distance from the town is only an hour's walk."
The words were written, perhaps, without much thought, but they
foreshadowed a terrible catastrophe. Kügelgen would pass, before his
fairy palace was ready to receive him, through that little, narrow
door into the heavenly mansions.
The holy week of 1820 found him in a condition of singularly deep
religious emotion. He was a Catholic, but had, nevertheless, allowed
his son to be confirmed by a Protestant pastor. The ceremony had
greatly affected him, and he said to a friend, who was struck at the
intensity of his feeling, "I know I shall never be as happy again
till I reach Heaven."
On March 27th, on the very day of the confirmation, he went in
the afternoon a walk by himself to his vineyard, to look at his
buildings. He invited one of his pupils to accompany him, but the
young man had some engagement and declined.
At 5 p.m. he was at the new house, where he paid the workmen, gave
some instructions, and pointed out where he would do some planting,
so as to enchance the picturesqueness of the spot. At some time
between six and seven he left, to walk back to Dresden, along the
road from Bautzen.
Every one who has been at the Saxon capital knows that road. The
right bank of the Elbe above Dresden rises in picturesque heights
covered with gardens and vineyards, from the river, and about a
mile from the bridge is the Linkes Bad, with its pleasant gardens,
theatre, music and baths. That road is one of the most charming,
and, therefore, the most frequented outside the capital. On the
evening in question the Easter moon was shining.
Kügelgen did not return home. His wife sent his son, the just
confirmed boy, aged 17 years, to the new house, to inquire for her
husband. The boy learned there that he had left some hours before.
He returned home, and found that still his father had not come
in. The police were communicated with, and the night was spent in
inquiries and search, but all in vain. On the following morning,
at 9 a.m., as the boy was traversing the same road, along with a
gensdarme, he deemed it well to explore a footpath beside the river,
which was overflown by the Elbe, and there, finally, amongst some
reeds they discovered the dead body of the artist, stripped of his
clothes to his shirt and drawers, lying on his face.
Gerhard von Kügelgen had been murdered. His features were cut and
bruised, his left temple and jaw were broken. Footsteps, as of two
persons, were traceable through the river mud and across a field
to the highway. Apparently the artist had been murdered on the
road, then carried or dragged to the path, stripped there, and then
cast among the rushes. About twenty-four paces from where he lay,
between him and the highway, his cap was found.
The excitement, the alarm, aroused in Dresden was immense. Not only
was Kügelgen universally respected, but everyone was in dismay at
the thought that his own safety was jeopardised, if a murder such as
this could be perpetrated on the open road, within a few paces of
the gates. Indeed, the place where the crime was committed was but a
hundred strides from the Linkes Bad, one of the most popular resorts
of the Dresdeners.
It was now remembered that only a few months before, near the
same spot, another murder had been committed, that had remained
undiscovered. In that case the victim had been a poor carpenter's
apprentice.
On the same day as the body of Kügelgen was found, the Government
offered a sum equal to £150 for the discovery of the murderer. A
little later, some children found among the rubbish, outside the
Black Gate of the Dresdener Vorstadt, a blue cloth cloak, folded
up and buried under some stones. It was recognised as having
belonged to Kügelgen. Moreover, in the pocket was the little
"Thomas-à-Kempis" he always carried about with him.
It was concluded that the murderer had not ventured to bring all
the clothing of Kügelgen into the town, through the gate, and had,
therefore, hidden portions in places whence he could remove them one
by one, unobserved. The murderer was, undoubtedly, an inhabitant of
the city.
From March 29th to April 4th the police remained without any clue,
although a description of the garments worn by the murdered man, and
of his watch, was posted up at every corner, and sent round to the
nearest towns and villages.
The workmen who had been engaged on Kügelgen's house were brought
before the police. They had left after his departure, and had
received money from him; but they were discharged, as there was no
evidence against them.
As no light seemed to fall on this mysterious case, the police
looked up the circumstances of the previous murder. On December
29th, 1819, a carrier on the highroad had found a body on the way.
It was ascertained to be that of a carpenter's apprentice, named
Winter. His skull had been broken in. Not a trace of the murderer
was found; not even footprints had been observed. However, it was
learned that the wife of a labourer had been attacked almost at the
same spot, on the 28th December, by a man wearing a military cap and
cloak; and she had only escaped him by the approach of a carriage,
the sound of the wheels having alarmed him, and induced him to fly.
He had fled in the direction of the Black Gate and the barracks.
The anxiety of the Dresdeners seemed justified. There was some
murderous ruffian inhabiting the Vorstadt, who hovered about the
gates, waylaying, not wealthy men only, but poor charwomen and
apprentices.
The military cloak and cap, the direction taken by the assailant in
his flight, gave a sort of clue--and the police suspected that the
murderer must be sought among the soldiers.
On April 4th two Jewish pawnbrokers appeared before the police, and
handed over a silver watch which had been left with them at 9 a.m.
on the 20th March--that is to say on the morning after the murder
of Kügelgen--and which agreed with the advertised description of
the artist's lost watch. It was identified at once. The man who had
pawned it, the Jews said, wore the uniform of an artillery soldier.
At the request of the civil authorities, the military officers held
an inquisition in the barracks. All the artillery soldiers were made
to pass before the Jew brokers, but they were unable to identify the
man who had deposited the watch with them. Somewhat later in the day
one of these Jews, as he was going through the street, saw a man in
civil dress, whom he thought he recognised as the fellow who had
given him the watch. He went up to him at once and spoke about the
watch. The man at first acknowledged that he had pawned one, then
denied, and threatened the Jew when he persevered in clinging to
him. A gendarme came up, and hearing what the controversy was about,
arrested the man, who gave his name as Fischer, a gunner.
Fischer was at once examined, and he doggedly refused to allow that
he had given up a watch to the Jew.
Suspicion against him was deepened by his declaring that he
had heard nothing of the murder--a matter of general talk in
Dresden--and that he had not seen the notices with the offer of
reward for the discovery of the murderer. On the following day,
April 5th, however, he admitted having pawned the watch, which he
pretended to have found outside the Black Gate. A few hours later he
withdrew this confession, saying that he was so bewildered with the
questions put to him, and so alarmed at his arrest, that he did not
well know what he said. It was observed that Fischer was a man of
very low intellectual power.
The same day he was invested in his uniform, and presented before
the pawnbrokers. Both unanimously declared that he was _not_ the man
who had entered their shop and deposited the watch with them. They
both declared that though Fischer had the same height and general
build as the man in question, and the same fair hair, yet that the
face was different.
With this, the case against Fischer broke down; nevertheless, though
he had been handed over by the military authorities to the civil
power, he remained under arrest. The public was convinced of his
guilt, and the police hoped by keeping him in prison to draw from
him later some information which might prove serviceable.
And, in fact, after he had been a fortnight under arrest, he
volunteered a statement. He was conducted at once before the
magistrate, and confessed that he had murdered Von Kügelgen. He,
however, stoutly denied having laid hands on the carpenter Winter.
Nevertheless, on the way back to his cell he told his gaoler that
he had committed this murder as well. Next day he was again brought
before the magistrate, and confessed to both murders. He was taken
to the spots where the two corpses had been found, and there he
renewed his confession, though without entering into any details.