← catalogue

Sidonia, the Sorceress : the Supposed Destroyer of the Whole Reigning Ducal House of Pomerania — Volume 1

by Wilhelm Meinhold · English · Gutenberg #6700 · 785,053 chars · public domain (US)

The Project Gutenberg eBook of Sidonia, the Sorceress : the Supposed Destroyer of the Whole Reigning Ducal House of Pomerania — Volume 1
    
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
before using this eBook.

Title: Sidonia, the Sorceress : the Supposed Destroyer of the Whole Reigning Ducal House of Pomerania — Volume 1

Author: Wilhelm Meinhold


        
Release date: October 1, 2004 [eBook #6700]
                Most recently updated: June 15, 2013

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/6700

Credits: Produced by Steve Schulze, Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. This file was produced from images generously made available by the CWRU Preservation Department Digital Library


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIDONIA, THE SORCERESS : THE SUPPOSED DESTROYER OF THE WHOLE REIGNING DUCAL HOUSE OF POMERANIA — VOLUME 1 ***




Produced by Steve Schulze, Charles Franks and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team. This file was produced from
images generously made available by the CWRU Preservation
Department Digital Library











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

Showing first 200,000 characters. Full text: gutenberg.org/ebooks/6700