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Sidonia The Sorceress V1

W >> William Mienhold >> Sidonia The Sorceress V1




This mightily pleased the sorceress, and she grew quite friendly,
asking him at last, "What news he had of his wife and children?"
And when he answered, "He had no wife nor children," her eyes lit
up again like old cinders, and she began to jest with him about
his going about so freely in a cloister, as she observed he did.
But when she saw that the priest looked grave at the jestings, she
changed her tone, and demurely asked him, "If he would be ready
after sermon on Sunday to assist at her assuming the nun's dress;
for though many had given up this old usage, yet she would hold by
it, for love of Jesu." This pleased the priest, and he promised to
be prepared. Then Sidonia took her leave; but scarcely had she
reached her own apartment when she sent for Anna Apenborg. "What
sort of man was this chaplain? she saw that he went about the
convent at his pleasure. This was strange when he was unmarried."

_Illa_.--"He was a right friendly and well-behaved gentleman.
Nothing unseemly in word or deed had ever been heard of him."

_Hæc_.--"Then he must have some private love-affair."

_Illa_.--"Some said he was paying court to Bamberg's sister
there in Jacobshagen."

_Hæc_.--"Ha! very probable. But was it true? for otherwise he
should never go about amongst the nuns the way he did. It was
quite abominable: an unmarried man; Dorothea Stettin was right.
But how could they ascertain the fact?"

_Illa_.--"That was easily done. She was going next morning to
Jacobshagen, and would make out the whole story for her. Indeed,
she herself, too, was curious about it."

_Hæc_.--"All right. This must be done for the honour of the
cloister. For according to the rules of 1569, the court chaplain
was to be an old man, who should teach the sisters to read and
write. Whereas, here was a fine carl with red lips and a black
beard--unmarried too. Did he perchance ever teach any of them to
read or write?"

_Illa_.--"No; for they all knew how already."

_Hæc_.--"Still there was something wrong in it. No, no, in
such matters youth has no truth; Dorothea Stettin was quite right.
Ah, what a wonderful creature, that excellent Dorothea! Such
modesty and purity she had never met with before. Would that all
young maidens were like her, and then this wicked world would be
something better."

_Illa_ (sighing).--"Ah, yes; but then sister Dorothea went
rather far in her notions."

_Hæc_.--"How so? In these matters one could never go too
far."

_Illa_.--"Why, when a couple were called in church, or a
woman was churched, Dorothea nearly fainted. Then, there was a
niche in the chancel for which old Duke Barnim had given them an
Adam and Eve, which he turned and carved himself. But Dorothea was
quite shocked at the Adam, and made a little apron to hang before
him, though the abbess and the whole convent said that it was not
necessary. But she told them, that unless Adam wore his apron,
never would she set foot in the chapel. Now, truly this was going
rather far. _Item_, she has been heard to wonder how the Lord
God could send all the animals naked into the world; as cats,
dogs, horses, and the like. Indeed, she one day disputed sharply
on the matter with the chaplain; but he only laughed at her,
whereupon Dorothea went away in a sulk."

Here Sidonia laughed outright too; but soon said with grave
decorum, "Quite right. The excellent Dorothea was a treasure above
all treasures for the convent. Ah, such chastity and virtue were
rarely to be met with in this wicked world."

Now Anna Apenborg had hardly turned her back, to go and chatter
all this back again to the sub-prioress, when Sidonia proceeded to
tap some of her beer, and called the convent porter to her,
Matthias Winterfeld, bidding him carry it with her greetings to
the chaplain, David Ludeck. (For her own maid, Wolde, was lame,
ever since the racking she got at Wolgast. So Sidonia was in the
habit of sending the porter all her messages, much to his
annoyance.) When he came now he was in his shirt-sleeves, at which
Sidonia was wroth--"What did he mean by going about the convent in
shirt-sleeves? Never let him appear before her eyes in such
unseemly trim. And was this a time even for shirt-sleeves, when
they were in the month of November? But winter or summer, he must
never appear so,"

Hereupon the fellow excused himself. He was killing geese for some
of the nuns, and had just put off his coat, not to have it spoiled
by the down; but she is nothing mollified--scolds him still, so
the fellow makes off without another word, fearing he might get a
touch of the rheumatism, like the abbess and his worship the
sheriff, and carries the beer-can to the reverend chaplain; from
whom he soon brings back "his grateful acknowledgments to the Lady
Sidonia."

Two days now passed over, but on the third morning Anna Apenborg
trotted into the refectory full of news. She was quite tired from
her journey yesterday; for the snow was deep on the roads, but to
pleasure sister Sidonia (and besides, as it was a matter that
concerned the honour of the convent) she had set off to
Jacobshagen, though indeed the snow lay ankle-deep. However, she
was well repaid, and had heard all she wanted; oh, there was great
news!

_Illa_.--"Quick! what? how? why? Remember it is for the
honour and reputation of the entire convent."

_Hæc_.--"She had first gone to one person, who pretended not
to know anything at all of the matter; but then another person had
told her the whole story--under the seal of the strictest secrecy,
however."

_Illa_.--"What is it? what is it? How she went on chattering
of nothing."

_Hæc_.--"But will the dear sister promise not to breathe it
to mortal? She would be ruined with her best friend otherwise."

_Illa_.--"Nonsense, girl; who could I repeat it to? Come, out
with it!"

So Anna began, in a very long-winded manner, to explain how the
burgomaster's wife in Jacobshagen said that her maid said that
Provost Bamberg's maid said, that while she was sweeping his study
the other morning, she heard the provost's sister say to her
brother in the adjoining room, that she could not bear the
chaplain, David Ludeck, for he had been visiting there off and on
for ever so long, and yet never had asked her the question. He was
a faint-hearted coward evidently, and she hated faint-hearted men.

Sidonia grew as red as a lire-beacon when she heard this, and
walked up and down the apartment as if much perturbed, so that
Anna asked if the dear sister were ill? "No," was the answer. "She
was only thinking how best to get rid of this priest, and prevent
him running in and out of the convent whenever he pleased. She
must try and have an order issued, that he was only to visit the
nuns when they were sick. This very day she would see about it.
Could the good Anna tell her what the sheriff had for lunch
to-day?"

_Illa_.--"Ay, truly, could she; for the milk-girl, who had
brought her some fresh milk, told her that he had got plenty of
wild fowl, which the keeper had snared in the net; and there was
to be a sweetbread besides. But what was the dear sister herself
to eat?"

_Hæc_.--"No matter--but did she not hear a great ringing of
bells? What could the ringing be for?"

_Illa_.--"That was a strange thing, truly. And there was no
one dead, nor any child to be christened, that she had heard of.
She would just run out and see, and bring the dear sister word."

_Illa_.-"Well then, wait till evening, for it is near noon
now, and I expect a guest to lunch."

_Hæc_.--"Eh? a guest!--and who could it be?"

_Illa_.--"Why, the chaplain himself. I want to arrange about
his dismissal."

So, hardly had she got rid of the chatterbox, when Sidonia called
the porter, Matthias, and bid him greet the reverend chaplain from
her, and say, that as she had somewhat to ask him concerning the
investiture on Sunday, would he be her guest that day at dinner?
She hoped to have some game with a sweetbread, and excellent beer
to set before him.

When the porter returned with the answer from his reverence,
accepting the invitation, she sent him straight to the sheriff
with a couple of covered dishes, and a message, begging his
worship to send her half-a-dozen brace or so of game, for she
heard that a great many had been taken in his nets; and a
sweetbread, if he had it, for she had a guest to-day at dinner.

So the dishes came back full--everything just ready to be served;
for the cunning hag knew well that he dare not refuse her; and
immediately afterwards the priest arrived to dinner. He was very
friendly, but Sidonia caught him looking very suspiciously at a
couple of brooms which she had laid crosswise under the table. So
she observed, "I lay these brooms there, to preserve our dear
mother and the sheriff from falling again into this sickness. It
is part of the doctrine of sympathies, and I learned it out of my
Herbal, as I can show you." Upon which she went to her trunk and
got the book for the priest, whose fears diminished when he saw
that it was _printed_; but he could not prevail on her to
lend it to him.

_Summa_.--The priest grew still more friendly over the good
eating and drinking; and she, the old hypocrite, discoursed him
the while about her heavenly bridegroom, and threw up her eyes and
sighed, at the same time pressing his hand fervently. But the
priest never minded it, for she was old enough to be his mother,
and besides, he remembered the Scripture--"No man can call Jesus
Lord, except through the Holy Ghost." So as her every third word
was "Jesus," he looked upon her as a most discreet and pious
Christian, and went away much satisfied by her and the good
dinner.




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._ [Footnote: Note of Duke Bogislaff XIV.--"Ay, and
will to the last day, _vaeh mihi_."]


As soon as the pious abbess was able to leave her bed, she sent
for the priest, for she had strange suspicions about Sidonia, and
asked the reverend clerk, if indeed her cure could have been
effected by sympathy? and were it not rather some work of the
bodily Satan himself? But my priest assured her concerning
Sidonia's Christian faith; _item_, told, to the great
wonderment of the abbess, that she no longer cared for the
sub-prioret (we know why--she would sooner have the priest than
the prioret), but was content to let Dorothea Stettin keep it or
resign it, just as she pleased.

After this, the investiture of Sidonia took place, and the priest
blessed her at the altar, and admonished her to take as her model
the wise virgins mentioned Matt. xxv. (but God knows, she had
followed the foolish virgins up to that period, and never ceased
doing so to the end of her days).

Even on that very night, we shall see her conduct; for she bid her
maid, Wolde, run and call up the convent porter, and despatch him
instantly for the priest, saying that she was very ill, and he
must come and pray with her. This excited no suspicion, since she
herself had forbade the priest entering the convent, unless any of
the sisters were sick. But Anna Apenborg slipped out of bed when
she heard the noise, and watched from the windows for the porter's
return. Then she tossed up the window, though the snow blew in all
over her bed, and called out, "Well, what says he? will he come?
will he come?"

And when the fellow grunted in answer, "Yes, he's coming," she
wrapped a garment round her, and set herself to watch, though her
teeth were chattering from cold all the time. In due time the
priest came, whereupon the curious virgin crept out of her garret,
and down the stairs to a little window in the passage which looked
in upon the refectory, and through which, in former times,
provisions were sometimes handed in. There she could hear
everything that passed.

When the priest entered, Sidonia stretched out her meagre arms
towards him, and thanked him for coming; would he sit down here on
the bed, for there was no other seat in the room? she had much to
tell him that was truly wonderful. But the priest remained
standing: let her speak on.

_Illa_.--"Ah! it concerned himself. She had dreamt a strange
dream (God be thanked that it was not a reality), but it left her
no peace. Three times she awoke, and three fell asleep and dreamt
it again. At last she sent for him, for there might be danger in
store for him, and she would turn it away if possible."

_Hic_.--"It was strange, truly. What, then, had she dreamed?"

_Illa_.--"It seemed to her that murderers had got up into his
room through the window, and just as they were on the point of
strangling him, she had appeared and put them to flight,
whereupon--" (here she paused and sighed).

_Hic _(in great agitation).--"Go on, for God's sake go
on--what further?"

_Illa_.--"Whereupon--ah! she must tell him now, since he
forced her to do it. Whereupon, out of gratitude, he took her to
be his wife, and they were married" (sighing, and holding both
hands before her eyes).

_Hic_ (clasping his hands).--"Merciful Heaven! how strange! I
dreamt all that precisely myself." [Footnote: The power of
producing particular dreams by volition, was recognised by the
ancients and philosophers of the Middle Ages. _Ex._ Albertus
Magnus relates (_De Mirabilibus Mundi_ 205) that horrible
dreams can be produced by placing an ape's skin under the pillow.
He also gives a receipt for making women tell their secrets in
sleep (but this I shall keep to myself). Such phenomena are
neither physiologically nor psychologically impossible, but our
modern physiologists are content to take the mere poor form of
nature, dissect it, anatomise it, and then bury it beneath the
sand of their hypotheses. Thus, indeed, "the dead bury their
dead," while all the strange, mysterious, inner powers of nature,
which the philosophers of the Middle Ages, as Psellus, Albertus
Magnus, Trithemius, Cardanus, Theophastus, &c., did so much to
elucidate, are at once flippantly and ignorantly placed in the
category of "Superstitions," "Absurdities," and "Artful
Deceptions."]

Upon which Sidonia cried out, "How can it be possible? Oh, it is
the will of God, David--it is the will of God" (and she seized him
by both hands).

But the priest remained as cold as the snow outside, drew back his
head, and said, "Ah! no doubt these absurdities about marriage
came into my head because I had been thinking so much over our
young Lord Philip of Wolgast, who was wedded to-day at Berlin."

Sidonia started up at this, and screamed in rage and anger--"What!
Duke Philip married to-day in Berlin? The accursed prioress told
me the wedding was not to be for eight days after the next new
moon."

The priest now was more astonished at her manner than even at the
coincidence of the dreams, and he started back from the bed.
Whereupon, perceiving the mistake she had made, the horrible witch
threw herself down again, and letting her head fall upon the
pillow, murmured, "Oh! my head! my head! She must have locked up
the moon in the cellar. How will the poor people see now by
night?--why did the prioress lock up the moon? Oh! my head! my
head!" Then she thanked the priest for coming--it was so good of
him; but she was worse--much worse. "Ah! her head! her head!
Better go now--but let him come again in the morning to see her."
So the good priest believed in truth that the detestable hag was
very ill, and evidently suffering from fever; so he went his way
pitying her much, and without the least suspicion of her wicked
purposes.

Scarcely, however, had he closed the door, when Sidonia sprang
like a cat from her bed, and called out, "Wolde, Wolde!" And as
the old witch hobbled in with her lame leg, Sidonia raged and
stamped, crying out, "The accursed abbess has lied to me. Ernest
Ludovicus' brat was married to-day at Berlin. Oh! if I am too late
now, as on his father's marriage, I shall hang myself in the
laundry. Where is Chim--the good-for-nothing spirit?--he should
have seen to this." And she dragged him out and beat him, while he
quaked like a hare.

Whereupon Wolde called out, "Bring the padlock from the trunk."
The other answered, "What use now?--the bridal pair are long since
wedded and asleep." To which the old witch replied, "No; it is
twelve o'clock here, but in Berlin it wants a quarter to it yet.
There is time. The Berlin brides never retire to their apartment
till the clock strikes twelve. There is time still."

"Then," exclaimed Sidonia, "since the devil cannot tell me on what
day they hold bridal, I will make an end now of the whole accursed
griffin brood, in all its relationships, branch and root, now and
for evermore, in Wolgast as in Stettin; be they destroyed and
rooted out for ever and for ever." Then she took the padlock, and
murmured some words over it, of which Anna Apenborg could only
catch the names, Philip, Francis, George, Ulrich, Bogislaff, who
were all sons to Duke Bogislaff XIII., and, in truth, died each
one without leaving an heir. And, during the incantation, the
light trembled and burned dim upon the table, and the thing which
she had beaten seemed to speak with a human voice, and the bells
on the turret swung in the wind with a low sound, so that Anna
fell on her knees from horror, and scarcely dared to breathe. Then
the accursed sorceress gave the padlock and key to Wolde, bidding
her go forth by night and fling it into the sea, repeating the
words:--

"Hid deep in the sea
Let my dark spell be,
For ever, for ever!
To rise up never!"

Then Wolde asked, "Had she forgotten Duke Casimir?" Whereat
Sidonia laughed and said, "The spell had long been on him." And
immediately after, Anna Apenborg beheld _three_ shadows, in
place of two, thrown upon the white wall opposite the little
window. So she strengthened her heart to look in, and truly there
was _another_ form present now. And the three danced
together, and chanted strange rhymes, while the shadows on the
wall danced up and down likewise. Then a deep bass voice called
out, "Ha! there is Christian flesh here! Ha! there is Christian
flesh!" Whereupon Anna, though nearly dead with fright, crept up
to her garret on her knees, while loud laughter resounded behind
her; and it seemed as if old pots were flung up the stairs after
her. [Footnote: Note of Duke Bogislaff XIV.--Incredibile sane, et
tamen verum. Cur, mi Deus?--(It seems impossible, and yet how
true. Wherefore, my God?)

The spell by knotting the girdle is noticed by Virgil, 8th
eclogue:

"Necte tribus nodis ternos Amarylli colores;
Necte Amarylli modo, et Veneris die vincula necto."

[In three knots Amaryllis weaves three different colours;
Amaryllis knots and says: I knot the girdle of Venus.]

The use of the padlock is not mentioned until the Middle Ages,
when it seems to have been so much employed that severe ordinances
were directed against its use.] For the rest of that night she
could not close her eyes.

Next morning, one can easily imagine with what eagerness she
hurried to the abbess, to relate the past night's horrible tale.
Sidonia likewise is astir early, for by daybreak she despatched
her old lame Wolde to the chaplain (the porter was not up yet)
with a can of beer for his great trouble the night before, and
trusted it would strengthen his heart. In this beer she had poured
her detestable love-philtrum, to awaken a passion for herself in
the breast of the reverend David, but it turned out quite
otherwise, and ended after the most ludicrous fashion, no doubt
all owing to the malice of the spirit Chim, in revenge for the
blows she had given him the night previous; for, behold, as soon
as the priest had swallowed a right good draught of beer, he began
to stare at the old hag and murmur; then he passed his hand over
his eyes, and motioned her to remain. Again he looked at
her--twice, thrice--put some silver into her hand, and at last
spake--"Ah! Wolde, what a beautiful creature you are! Where have
my eyes been, that I never discovered this before?"

The cunning hag saw now plainly what the drink had done, and which
way the wind blew. So she sat herself down simpering, by the
stove, and my priest crept up close beside her; he took her
hand--"Ah! how fat and plump it was--such a beautiful hand."

But the old hag drew it back, saying, "Let me go, Mr. David!" To
which he answered, "Yes, go, my treasure! I love to see you walk!
What an exquisite limp! How stupid are men nowadays not to see all
the beauty of a limp! Ah! Venus knew it well, and therefore chose
Vulcan, for he, too, limped like my Wolde. Give me a kiss then,
loveliest of women! Ah! what enchanting snow-white hair, like the
purest silver, has my treasure on her head."

No wonder the old lame hag was tickled with the commendations,
for, in all the sixty years of her life, she never had heard the
like before. But she played the prude, and pushed away the priest
with her hand, just as, by good fortune, a messenger from the
abbess knocked at the door, with a request that the chaplain would
come to the good mother without delay. So the old hag went away
with the maid of the abbess, and the priest stopped to dress
himself more decently.

But in some time the abbess, who was on the watch, saw him
striding past her door; so she opened the window and called out to
know "Where was he going? Had he forgotten that she lived there?"
To which he answered, "He must first visit Sidonia." At this the
worthy matron stared at him in horror; but my priest went on; and
as he cared more for the maid than the mistress now, ran at once
into the kitchen, without waiting to see Sidonia in the refectory;
and seizing hold of Wolde, whispered, "That she must give him the
kiss now--she need not be such a prude, for he had no wife. And
what beautiful hair! Never in his life had he seen such beautiful
white hair!" But the old hag still resisted; and in the struggle a
stool, on which lay a pot, was thrown down.

Sidonia rushed in at the noise; and behold! there was my priest
holding Wolde by the hand. She nearly fainted at the sight. What
was he doing with her maid? Then seizing a heavy log of wood, she
began to lay it on Wolde's shoulders, who screamed and roared,
while my priest slunk away ashamed, without a word; and as he ran
down the steps, heard the blows and the screams still resounding
from the kitchen.

As he passed the door of the abbess's room, again she called him
in; but as he entered, she exclaimed in terror, "My God, what ails
your reverence? You look as black and red in the face as if you
had had a fit, and had grown ten years older in one night!"

"Nothing ails me," he answered; then sighed, and walked up and
down the room, murmuring, "What is the world to me? Why should I
care what the world thinks?" Then falls flat on the ground as if
he were dead, while the good abbess screams and calls for help. In
runs Anna Apenborg--_item_, several other sisters with their
maids, and they stretch the priest out upon a bench near the
stove, where he soon begins to foam at the mouth, and throw up all
the beer, with the love-philtrum therein, which he had drunk
(Sidonia's power effected this, no doubt, since she saw how
matters stood).

Then he heaved a deep sigh, opened his eyes, and asked, "Where am
I?" Whereupon, finding that his reason and clear understanding had
been restored to him, he requested the sisterhood to depart (for
they had all rushed in to hear what was going on) and leave him
alone with the abbess, as he had matter of grave import to discuss
with her. Whereupon they all went out, except Anna Apenborg, who
said that she, too, had matter of grave import to relate. So
finding she would not stir, the priest took her by the hand, and
put her out at the door along with the others.

Now when they were both left alone, we can easily imagine the
subject of their conversation. The poor priest made his
confession, concealing nothing, only lamenting bitterly how he had
disgraced his holy calling; but he had felt like one in a dream,
or under some influence which he could not shake off. In return,
the abbess told him of the horrible scene witnessed by Anna
Apenborg the night before; upon which they both agreed that no
more accursed witch and sorceress was in the world than their poor
cloister held at that moment. Finally, putting all the
circumstances together, the reverend David began to perceive what
designs Sidonia had upon him, particularly when he heard of Anna
Apenborg's visit to Jacobshagen, and the news which she had
brought back from thence. So to destroy all hope at once in the
accursed sorceress, and save himself from further importunity and
persecution on her part, he resolved to offer his hand the very
next day to Barbara Bamberg, for, in truth, he had long had an eye
of Christian love upon the maiden, who was pious and discreet, and
just suited to be a pastor's wife.

Then they agreed to send for the sheriff, and impart the whole
matter to him, he being cloister superintendent; but his answer
was, "Let them go to him, if they wanted to speak to him; for, as
to him, he would never enter the convent again--his poor body had
suffered too much there the last time."

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