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Sidonia The Sorceress V1

W >> William Mienhold >> Sidonia The Sorceress V1




This same priest, with all his goodness and learning, was yet a
bad logician; for by his careless speaking in one of his sermons,
much commotion was raised in the village. In this sermon he
asserted that anything out of the usual course of nature must be
devil's work, and ought to be held in abhorrence by all good
Christians: he suffered for this after-wards, as we shall see. On
the Monday after this discourse, he journeyed into Poland, to
visit a brother who dwelt in some town there, I know not which.

Then arose a great talking amongst the villagers concerning the
said Trina Bergen; for the cocks began to sit upon the eggs in
place of the hens, in her poultry-yard, and all the people came
together to see the miracle, and as it was against the course of
nature, it must be devil's work, and Trina Bergen was a witch.

In vain the old mother protested she knew nothing of it, then runs
to the priest's house, but he is away; from that to the mayor of
the village, but he is going out to shoot, and bid her and the
villagers pack off with their silly stories.

So the poor old mother gets no help, and meanwhile the peasants
storm her house, and search and ransack every corner for proofs of
her witchcraft, but nothing can be found. Stay! there in the
cellar sits a woman, who will not tell her name.

They drag her out, bring her up to the parlour, while the old
mother sits wringing her hands. Who was this woman? and how did
she come into the cellar?

_Illa_.--"She had hired her to spin, because her daughter was
out at service till autumn, and she could not do all the work
herself."

"Why then did she sit in the cellar, as if she shunned the light?"

_Illa_.--"The girl had prayed for leave to sit there, because
the screaming of the young geese in the yard disturbed her;
besides, she had been only two days with her."

"But who in the devil's name was the girl? It was easy to see she
had bewitched the hens, for everything against the course of
nature must be devil's work."

_Illa_.--"Ah, yes! this must be the truth. Let them chase the
devil away. Now she saw why the girl would not sit in the light,
and had refused to enter the blessed church with her the day
before."

"What was her name? They should both be sent to the devil, if she
did not tell the girl's name."

_Illa_.--"Alas! she had forgotten it, but ask herself. Her
story was, that she had been married to a peasant in Usdom, who
died lately, and his relations then turned her out, that she was
now going to Daber, where she had a brother, a fisher in the
service of the Dewitz family, and wanted to earn a travelling
penny by spinning, to convey her there."

Now as the rumour of witchcraft spread through the village, all
the people ran together, from every part, to Trina's house. And a
pale young man pressed forward from amongst the crowd, to look at
the supposed witch. When he stood before her, the girl cast down
her eyes gloomily, and he cried out, "It is she! it is the very
accursed witch who robbed me of my strength by her sorceries, and
barely escaped from the fagot--seize her--that is Anna Wolde. Now
he knew what the elder sticks meant, which he found set up as a
gallows before his door this morning--the witch wanted to steal
away his manhood from him again--burn her! burn her! Come and see
the elder sticks, if they did not believe him!"

So the whole village ran to his cottage, where he had just brought
home a widow, whom he was going to marry, and there indeed stood
the elder sticks right before his door in the form of a gallows,
upon which the sheriff was wroth, and commanded the girl to be
brought before him with her hands bound.

But as she denied everything, Zabel Bucher, the sheriff, ordered
the hangman to be sent for, to see what the rack might do in
eliciting the truth. Further, he bade the people make a fire in
the street, and burn the elder sticks therein.

So the fire is lit, but no one will touch the sticks. Then the
sheriff called his hound and bade him fetch them; but Fixlein, who
was acute enough at other times, pretended not to know what his
master wanted. In vain the sheriff bent down on the ground,
pointing with his finger, and crying, "Here, Fixlein! fetch,
Fixlein!" No, Fixlein runs round and round the elder sticks till
the dust rises up in a cloud, and yelps, and barks, and jumps, and
stares at his master, but never touches the sticks, only at last
seizes a stone in his mouth, and runs with it to the sheriff.

Now, indeed, there was a commotion amongst the people. Not even
the dog would touch the accursed thing. So at last the sheriff
called for a pair of tongs, to seize the sticks himself and fling
them into the fire. Whereupon his wife screamed to prevent him;
but the brave sheriff, strengthening his heart, advanced and
touched them; whereupon Fixlein, as if he had never known until
now what his master wanted, made a grab at them, but the sheriff
gave him a blow on the nose with the tongs which sent him away
howling, and then, with desperate courage and a stout heart,
seizing the elder twigs in the tongs, flung them boldly into the
fire.

Meanwhile Peter Bollerjahn, the hangman, has arrived, and when he
hears of the devilry he shakes his head, but thinks he could make
the girl speak, if they only let him try his way a little. But
they must first get authority from the mayor. Now the mayor had
not gone to the hunt, for some friends arrived to visit him, whom
he was obliged to stay at home and entertain, so the whole crowd,
with the sheriff, Zabel Bucher, at the head, set off to the
mayoralty, bringing the witch with them, and prayed his lordship
to make a terrible example of her, for that witchcraft was
spreading fearfully in the land, and they would have no peace
else.

Whereupon he came out with his guests to look at the miserable
criminal, who, conscious of her guilt, stood there silent and
glowering; but he could do nothing for them--did they not know
that his Highness had closed all the courts of justice, therefore
he could not help them, nor be troubled about their affairs? Upon
which the sheriff cried out, "Then we shall help ourselves; let us
burn the witch who bewitches our hens, and sticks up elder sticks
before people's doors. Come, let us right ourselves!" So the mayor
said they might do as they pleased, he had no power to hinder
them, only let them remember that when the courts reopened, they
would be called to a strict account for all this. And he went into
his house, but the people shouted and dragged away the witch, with
loud yells, to the hangman, bidding him stretch her on the rack
before all their eyes.

When the girl saw and heard all this, and remembered how the old
Lord Chamberlain at Wolgast had stretched her till her hip was
broken, she cried out, "I will confess all, only spare me the
torture, for I dread it more than death."

Upon this, the sheriff said, "He would ask her three questions,
and pronounce judgment accordingly." (Oh! what evil times for dear
Pomerania land, when the people could thus take the law into their
own hands, and pronounce judgment, though no judges were there.
Had the bailiff given her a little twist of the rack, just to get
at the truth, it would at least have been more in accordance with
the usages, although I say not he would have been justified in so
doing; but without using the rack at all, to believe what this
devil's wretch uttered, and judge her thereupon, was grossly
improper and absurd.) _Summa_, here are the three
questions:--

"First, whether she had bewitched the hens; and for what?"

_Respond_.--"Simply to amuse herself; for the time hung heavy
in the cellar, and she could see them through the chinks in the
wall." (Let her wait; Master Peter will soon give her something to
amuse her.)

"Second, why and wherefore had she stuck up the elder twigs?"

_Respond_.-"Because she had been told that Albert was going
to marry a widow; for he had promised her marriage, as all the
world knew, and even called her by his name, Wolde Albrechts, and
therefore she had put a spell upon him of elder twigs, that he
might turn away the widow and marry her." (Let her wait; Master
Peter will soon stick up elder twigs for her.)

"Third, whether she had a devil; and how was he named?"

Here she remained silent, then began to deny it, but was reminded
of the rack, and Master Peter got ready his instruments as if for
instant use; so she sighed heavily, and answered, "Yes, she had a
familiar called Jurge, and he appeared always in the form of a
man."

Upon this confession the sheriff roared, "Burn the witch!" and all
the people shouted after him, "Burn the witch! the accursed
witch!" and she was delivered over to Master Peter.

But he made answer that he had never burned a witch; he would,
however, go over to Massow in the morning, to his brother-in-law,
who had burned many, and learn the mode from him. Meanwhile the
peasants might collect ten or twelve clumps of wood upon the
Koppenberg, and so would they frighten all women from practising
this devil's magic. Would they not burn Trina Bergen likewise--the
old hag who had the witch in her cellar? It would be a right
pleasant spectacle to the whole town.

This, however, the peasants did not wish. Upon which the carl
asked what he was to be paid for his trouble? Formerly the state
paid for the criminal, but the courts now would have nothing to do
with the business. What was he to get? So the peasants consulted
together, and at last offered him a sack of oats at Michaelmas,
just that they might have peace in the village. Whereupon he
consented to burn her; only in addition they must give him a free
journey to Massow on the morrow.

_Summa_.--When the third morning dawned, all the village came
together to accompany the witch up the Koppenberg: the
schoolmaster, with all his school going before, singing, "Now pray
we to the Holy Ghost;" then came Master Peter with the witch, he
bearing a pan of lighted coal in his hand. But, lo! when they
reached the pile on the Koppenberg, behold it was wet wood which
the stupid peasants had gathered.

Now the hangman fell into a great rage. Who the devil could burn a
witch with wet wood? She must have bewitched it. This was as bad
as the hen business.

Some of the people then offered to run for some dry wood and hay;
but my knave saw that he might turn the matter to profit, so he
proposed to sack the witch in place of burning her; "for," said
he, "it will be a far more edifying spectacle and example to your
children, this sacking in place of burning. There was a lake quite
close to the town, and, indeed, he had forgotten yesterday to
propose it to them. The plan was this. They were to tie her up in
a leathern sack, with a dog, a cock, and a cat. (Ah, what a pity
he had killed the wild-cat which he had caught some weeks before
in the fox-trap.) Then they would throw all into the lake, where
the cat and dog, and cock and witch, would scream and fight, and
bite and scratch, until they sank; but after a little while up
would come the sack again, and the screaming, biting, and fighting
would be renewed until they all sank down again and for ever.
Sometimes, indeed, they would tear a hole in the sack, which
filled with water, and so they were all drowned. In any case it
was a fine improving lesson to their children; let them ask the
schoolmaster if the sacking was not a far better spectacle for the
dear children than the burning."

"Ay, 'tis true," cried the schoolmaster; "sacking is better."

Upon which all the people shouted after him, "Ay, sack her! sack
her!"

When the knave heard this, he continued--

"Now, they heard what the schoolmaster said, but he could not do
all this for a sack of oats, for, indeed, leather sacks were very
dear just now; but if each one added a sack of meal and a goose at
Michaelmas, why, he would try and manage the sacking. The lake was
broad and deep, and it lay right beneath them, so that all the
dear children could see the sight from the hill."

However, the peasants would by no means agree to the sack of meal,
whereupon a great dispute arose around the pile, and a bargaining
about the price with great tumult and uproar.

Now the robber-band were in the vicinity, and Sidonia, hearing the
noise, peeped out through the bushes and recognised Anna Wolde;
then, guessing from the pile what they were going to do to her,
she begged of Johann to save the poor girl, if possible; for
Sidonia and the knave were now on the best of terms, since he had
chased away the gipsy hag and her daughter for robbing him.

So Johann gives the word, and the band, which now numbered one
hundred strong, burst forth from the wood with wild shouts and
cries. Ho! how the people fled on all sides, like chaff before the
wind! The executioner is the first off, throws away his pan of
coals, and takes to his heels. _Item_, the schoolmaster, with
all his school, take to their heels; the sheriff, the women,
peasants, spectators-all, with one accord, take to their heels,
screaming and roaring.

The witch alone remains, for she is lame and cannot run; but she
screams, too, and wrings her hands, crying--

"Take me with you; oh, take me with you; for the love of God take
me with you; I am lame and cannot run!"

_Summa_.--One can easily imagine how it all ended. The
witch-girl was saved, and, as she now owed her life a second time
to Sidonia, she swore eternal fidelity and gratitude to the lady,
promising to give her something in recompense for all the benefits
she had conferred on her. Alas, that I should have to say to
Christian men what this was! [Footnote: Namely, the evil spirit
Chim. See Sidonia's confession upon the rack, vol. iv. Dahnert's
Pomeranian Library, p. 244.]

And when Sidonia asked how things went on in Daber, great was her
joy to hear that the whole castle and town were full of company,
for the nuptials of Clara von Dewitz and Marcus Bork were
celebrated there. And the old Duchess from Wolgast had arrived,
along with Duke Johann Frederick, and the Dukes Barnim, Casimir,
and Bogislaff. _Item_, a grand cavalcade of nobles had ridden
to the wedding upon four hundred horses, and lords and ladies from
all the country round thronged the castle.

Now Johann Appelmann would not credit the witch-girl, for he had
seen none of all this company upon the roads; but she said her
brother the fisherman told her that their Graces travelled by
water as far as Wollin, for fear of the robbers, and from thence
by land to Daber.

When Sidonia heard this she fell upon Johann's neck, exclaiming--

"Revenge me now, Johann! revenge me! Now is the time; they are all
there. Revenge me in their blood!"

This seemed rather a difficult matter to Johann, but he promised
to call together the whole band, and see what could be done. So he
went his way to the band, and then the evil-minded witch-girl
began again, and told Sidonia, that if she chose to burn the
castle at Daber, and make an end of all her enemies at once, there
was some one hard by in the bush who would help her, for he was
stronger than all the band put together.

_Illa_.--"Who was her friend? Let her go and bring him."

_Hæc_.--"She must first cross her hand with gold, and give a
piece of money for him; [Footnote: According to the witches, every
evil spirit must be purchased, no matter how small the price, but
something must be given-a ball of worsted, a kerchief, &c.] then
he would come and revenge her."

Sidonia's eyes now sparkled wildly, and she put some money in the
woman's hand, who murmured, "For the evil one;" then stepped
behind a tree, and returned in a short time with a black cat
wrapped up in her apron.

"This," she said, "was the strong spirit Chim. [Footnote:
Joachim.] Let her give him plenty to eat, but show him to no one.
When she wanted his assistance, strike him three times on the
head, and he would assume the form of a man. Strike him six times
to restore him again to this form."

Now Sidonia would scarcely credit this; so, looking round to see
if they were quite alone, she struck the animal three times on the
head, who instantly started up in the form of a gay young man,
with red stockings, a black doublet, and cap with stately heron's
plumes.

"Yes, yes," he exclaimed, "I know thy enemies, and will revenge
thee, beautiful child. I will burn the castle of Daber for thee,
if thou wilt only do my bidding; but now, quick! strike me again
on the head, that I may reassume my original form, for some one
may see us; and put me in a basket, so can I travel with thee
wheresoever thou goest."

And thus did Sidonia with the evil spirit Chim, as she afterwards
confessed upon the rack, when she was a horrible old hag of
eighty-four years of age.

And he went with her everywhere, and suggested all the evil to her
which she did, whereof we shall hear more in another place.
[Footnote: Dahnert.--This belief in the power of evil spirits to
assume the form of animals, comes to us from remotest
antiquity--example, the serpent in Paradise. In all religions, and
amongst all nations, this belief seems firmly rooted; but even if
we do not see a visible devil, do we not, alas! know and feel that
there is one ever with us, ever pre-sent, ever suggesting all
wickedness to us, as this devil to Sidonia?-even our own evil
nature. For what else is the Christian life, but a warfare between
the divine within us and this ever-present Satan?--and through
God's grace alone can we resist this devil.]




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._


When Johann and Sidonia proposed to the band that they should
pillage the castle of Daber, they all shouted with delight, and
swore that life and limb might be perilled, but the castle should
be theirs that night. Nevertheless my knave Johann thought it a
dangerous undertaking, for they knew no one inside the walls, and
Anna Wolde, the witch, could not come with them, seeing that she
was lame. So at last he thought of sending Konnemann disguised as
a beggar, to examine the courtyard and all the out
offices--perchance he might spy out some unguarded door by which
they could effect an entrance.

Then Sidonia said she would go too, and although Johann tried hard
to persuade her, yet she begged so earnestly for leave that
finally he consented. Yes, she must see the very spot where the
viper was hatched which had stung her to death. Ah, she would brew
something for her in return; pity only that the wedding was over,
otherwise the little bride should never have touched a
wedding-ring, if she could help it; but it was too late now.

So the three Satan's children slipped out upon the highway from
the wood, and travelled on so near to the castle that the noise,
and talking, and laughing, and barking of dogs, and neighing of
horses, were all quite audible to their ears.

Now the castle of Daber is built upon a hill which is entirely
surrounded by water, so that the castle can be approached only by
two bridges--one southwards, leading from the town; the other
eastwards, leading direct through the castle gardens. The castle
itself was a noble, lofty pile, with strong towers and
spires--almost as stately a building as my gracious lord's castle
at Saatzig.

When Johann observed all this, his heart failed him, and as he and
his two companions peeped out at it from behind a thorn-bush, they
agreed that it would be hard work to take such a castle,
garrisoned, as it was now, by four hundred men or more, with their
mere handful of partisans.

But Satan knows how to help his own, for what happened while they
were crouching there and arguing? Behold, the old Dewitz, as an
offering to the church at Daber upon his daughter's marriage, had
promised twenty good acres of land to be added to the glebe. And
he comes now up the hill, with a great crowd of men to dig the
boundary. So the Satan's children behind the thorn-bush feared
they would be discovered; but it was not so, and the crowd passed
on unheeding them.

Old Dewitz now called the witnesses, and bid them take note of the
position of the boundary. There where the hill, the wild
apple-tree, and the town tower were all in one line, was the
limit; let them keep this well in their minds. Then calling over
six lads, he bid them take note likewise of the boundary, that
when the old people were dead they might stand up as witnesses;
but as such things were easily forgotten, he, the priest, and the
churchwarden would write it down for them, so that it never, by
any chance, could escape their memory.

Upon which the good knight, being lord and patron, took a stout
stick the first, and cudgelled the young lads well, asking them
between terms--

"Where is the boundary?"

To which they answered, screaming and roaring--

"Where the hill, the apple-tree, and the town tower are all in one
line."

Then the knight, laughing, handed over the stick to the priest,
saying--

"It was still possible they might forget; they better, therefore,
have another little memorandum from his reverence."

"No! no!" screamed the boys, "we will remember it to eternity."

However, his reverence just gave them a little touch of the stick
in fun, till they roared out the boundary marks a second time.

But now stepped forth the churchwarden, to take his turn with the
stick on the boys' backs. This man had been a forester of the old
Baron Dewitz, and had often taken note of one of the young fellows
present, how he had poached and stolen the buck-wheat, so he
gladly seized this opportunity to punish him for all his misdeeds,
and laying the cudgel on his shoulders, thrashed and belaboured
him so unmercifully, that the lad ran, shrieking, cursing,
howling, and roaring, far away in amongst the bushes to hide
himself, while the churchwarden cried out--

"Well! if all the other lads forget the boundary, I think my fine
fellow here will bear the memorandum to the day of judgment."

And so they went away laughing from the place, and returned to the
castle.

But the devil drew his profit from all this, for where should the
lad run to, but close to the very spot where the robbers were
hiding, and there he threw himself down upon the grass, writhing
and howling, and swearing he would be revenged upon the
churchwarden. This is a fine hearing for my knave in the bush, so
he steps forward, and asks--

"What vile Josel had dared to ill-treat so brave a youth? He would
help him to a revenge upon the base knave, for injustice was a
thing he never could suffer. The tears really were in his eyes to
think that such wickedness should be in the world;" and here he
pretended to wipe his eyes. So the lad, being quite overcome by
such compassionate sympathy, howled and cried ten times more--

"It was the forester Kell, the shameless hound; but he would play
him a trick for it."

_Ille_.--"Right. He owed the fellow a drubbing already
himself, and now he would have a double one, if he could only get
hold of him."

_Hic_.--"He would run and tell him that a great lord wanted
to speak to him here in the forest."

_Ille_.-"No, no; that would scarcely answer; but where did
the fellow live?"

_Hic_.-"In the castle, where his father lived likewise."

_Ille_.-"Who was his father?"

_Hic_.--"His father was the steward."

_Ille_.--"Ah, then, he kept the keys of the castle?"

_Hic_.--"Oh yes, and the key of the back entrance also, which
led through the gardens. His father kept one key, and the gardener
the other."

_Ille_.--"Well, he would tell him a secret. This very Kell
had deceived him once, like a knave as he was, and he was watching
to punish him, but he daren't go up to the castle in the broad
daylight, particularly now while the wedding was going on. How
long would it last?"

_Hic_.--"For three days more; it had lasted three days
already, and the castle was full of company, and great lords from
all the country round, a great deal grander even than old Dewitz,
were there."

_Ille_.--"Well, then, it would be quite impossible to go up
to the castle and flog the churchwarden before all the company--he
could see that himself. But supposing he let him in at night
through the garden door, couldn't they get the knave out on some
pretence, and then drub him to their heart's content?"

So the lad was delighted with the plan, particularly on hearing
that he was to help in the drubbing; but then if the forester
recognised him, what was to be done? he would be ruined. To which
Johann answered--

"Just put on an old cloak, and speak no word; then, neither by
dress nor voice will he know thee; besides, the night will be
quite dark, so fear nothing. We'll teach him, I engage, how to
beat a fine young fellow again, or to rob me of my gold, as he
did, the base, unworthy knave."

Here the lad laughed outright with joy. "Yes, yes, that would just
do; and he could put on his father's old mantle, and bring a stout
crab-stick along with him."

_Hic_.--"All right, young friend; but how was he to get into
the castle garden? Was there not a drawbridge which was lifted
every night?"

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