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Sidonia The Sorceress V2

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And his Grace wanted to order carriages instantly to carry them
all off, that so they might arrive that same evening at the
castle, but Diliana objected--

"No, she would stand by her word, and never hold bridal in Saatzig
until her poor cousin lay at rest in her grave. This night she
would remain in the town, and not leave it until she had seen the
last of her poor cousin."

A long strife now ensued, but Diliana remained firm to her
resolve. So his Highness said, at last, that he would play the
messenger himself, and journey off to the wedding the moment he
had given orders to his chancellor respecting the change of
Sidonia's sentence. He was better pleased not to be in the place
when she was executed. Diliana could stay the night in the castle
with his dear spouse, the Duchess, and the knight might look after
a place for himself. He would desire all the wedding-guests to be
ready to-morrow at midday for the bridal, and if Diliana and the
knight disliked riding, let them order a carriage from the marshal
of his stables, with fresh Frisian horses, and in a couple of
hours they would be at Saatzig.

However, Diliana would not remain the night in the castle, but
went to her cousin, the lady of Matzke Bork, because her house
stood not far from the place of execution, although the place
itself was not visible, and my younker went down sorrowfully to
the inn to pass the night there, but betimes in the morning was up
and off to his dear little bride. He finds her in the second
story, but no longer in her bridal magnificence; a black mourning
garment covered her entire person; and when the knight started in
dismay at her appearance, she said--

"That no other robes beseemed a Bork when one of their race was
going to her death; and she heard that the procession to the
scaffold was to come that way from the Otterburg, and would pass
in half-an-hour, therefore she was prepared to behold it. It was
well that the scaffold itself was hidden from their sight; but
would her dear George just go over and bid some one hoist a flag
when the head of her cousin fell."

So the knight did her will, but when he returned said--

"Diliana, if thou givest me so many nuts to crack when we are
married, methinks it will be an evil thing."

To which she answered mildly--

"No, dear George, after marriage it is the wife who cracks all the
hard nuts, but to-day, dearest, it is thy office. I know not why,
but I have a feeling over me to-day as if the soul of my poor
grandmother would be at rest after this execution, and that
Sidonia herself will be, in some sense, pardoned through the means
of that death-shift, No. 7; yet wherefore I think this I know
not."

Just then a dull, hoarse, murmuring sound was heard in the
distance, like the heaving of the waves when thunder is in the
air, and the Lady Matzke's maid rushed in exclaiming--"She's
coming! she's coming!" Then Diliana trembled and turned pale, but
still advanced to the balcony with her cousin and the young
knight.

At length the terrible sorceress herself appears in sight,
accompanied by the school, chanting the death-psalm. She wore a
white robe seamed with black, and Diliana recognises, with a
shudder, that this is indeed Clara's shift, for she had herself
thus stitched the seams in order to know it; but besides, the No.
7 was plainly discernible on the neck. She walked barefoot, and
round her head was bound a black fillet flowered with gold, from
beneath which her long white hair fluttered in the wind.

Diliana contemplates all this awhile shudderingly, then covers her
face with both hands, and sobs and weeps, so that the tears pour
down through the delicate little fingers, and my younker hath
enough to do to comfort her. But when the procession disappears
she dries her eyes, re-enters the chamber, and folding her hands
across her bosom, walks up and down, praying earnestly, until the
red Danish flag shoots up. Then she sighed deeply, and drying her
beautiful eyes again said softly--

"May God have mercy upon her soul, now her tortures are over!"

Scarcely are the words uttered ere a dense cloud of smoke ascends
above the fisher's house, rising higher and higher, like a lofty
black tower in the air, so that they all conjectured--"Now she is
burning on the pile," and shuddered, yet are content withal that
at last her fearful life has ended.

Then they all knelt down and repeated the Lord's Prayer; then
rising, addressed themselves in earnest for their homeward
journey.

And here, with the death of Sidonia, I might justly close my book,
merely stating in addition, that her ashes were laid in the burial
ground for the poor, and that some time after the gentle Diliana
caused a tombstone to be erected over them, out of Christian
charity and forgiveness. But as some say his Highness the Duke got
his death at the wedding of Diliana, I shall briefly narrate the
facts here, to please the curious reader.

For the said Duke was so much taken with the Malmsey wine, that he
sat up drinking the whole night, and next morning his legs were
swelled to that degree that his boots had to be cut oft with
knives. So that when the bridal pair arrived, his Grace had to
receive them in slippers, yet rejoiced much at hearing that all
was over; and then, scarcely giving Diliana time to recover
herself, despatched the whole company off to the church. Not,
however, without giving serious admonitions, both to the priest
and the knight, George, not to let the ring drop. For if Dr.
Luther, the thoughtless lubberhead, had not let the ring fall at
the wedding of his grandfather in Forgau, it would have been
better with him and his whole race, as his grandmother of blessed
memory had always said, and now indeed he saw she had spoken
wisely.

Now my Jobst in the confusion of voices, hearing only the word
"monk," thought his Grace was speaking of the monks' heads on the
capitals of the pillars in the hall. So seeing two empty flasks,
shouted, "Ay, that is for thee, monk!" and pitched them crash!
crash! with such force up at the monks, that the pieces flew about
the ears of the musicians who were to play before the bridal pair
going to church, and a loud peal of laughter rang through the
hall--after which they all set off for the wedding at last. And in
truth this was a blessed marriage.

But respecting the illustrious and princely race of Pomerania,
they perished each and all without leaving behind one single
inheritor of their name or possessions. Not, methinks, because of
the spell which the demoniac sorceress laid on them, but because
He loved this race so well, that He withdrew them from this evil
world before the dreadful strifes, wars, and calamities came upon
them, which our poor fatherland now endures. For before these
storms broke over our heads, He called them one by one from this
vale of tears, and truly, the first was his Highness Duke Francis,
for in a few months after Sidonia's execution, after a brief
illness, on the 27th December 1620, he fell asleep in God, aged 43
years, 8 months, and 3 days, without leaving children. The next
was Bishop Udalricus, who likewise became suddenly ill at
Pribbernow, near Stepnitz, with swollen body and limbs, and had to
lie there until his death, on the 31st October 1622, when, to the
great grief and consternation of the whole land, his young life
closed at the early age of 34 years, and he too left no children,
though he had a young and beautiful spouse. The next who died was
Duke Philip Julius of Wolgast, the only son of Ernest Ludovicus
and his spouse Hedwig. He was a wise and just ruler, but followed
the others soon, on the 16th February 1625, aged only 40 years, 1
month, and 28 days--likewise, as all the rest, left no children.

But our Lord God hath not withdrawn so many and noble princes from
the world without sending forth strange and wonderful signs to
forewarn the land; for, without speaking of the great thunderclap
which was heard all of a sudden in the middle of clear fine
weather, the winter after Sidonia's death, and the numberless mock
suns that appeared in different places, or of that strange rain,
when a sulphureous matter, like starch in appearance, fell from
the air (_item_, a snow-white pike was caught at Colzow in
Wellin, seven quarters long, and half an ell broad, with red round
eyes, and red fins), a stranger wonder than all was seen at
Wolgast; for suddenly, during a review held there, one of the
soldier's muskets went off without a finger being laid on it, and
the ball went right through the princely Pomeranian standard with
such precision, that the arms seemed to have been cut out all
round with a sharp knife. At Stettin also, in the castle-chapel,
one of the crowns suspended over the stalls fell down of itself;
but still more awful was what happened respecting Bogislaus XIII.,
last father of all the Pomeranian princes. For all along, by the
pillars of the aisle, there are figures in armour representing the
deceased dukes. And during the sermon one Sunday, the sword fell
clanging to the ground from the hand of the armed figure
representing Bogislaus XIII., though no human hand ever touched
it. At this sight every one was troubled in spirit, but woe, alas!
we now see what all these supernatural signs and wonders denoted!
Yet still we have one noble prince remaining with the ancient
blood of Pomerania in his veins. May the Lord God spare him long
to us, and bless him, like Abraham, with a son in his old age.
Such an Isaac would be a blessed sight to me; for when the last
branch falls, I know that my poor heart will break also!

DR. THEODORUS PLÖNNIES.




CONCLUSION.

_Mournful destiny of the last princely Pomeranian remains--My
visit to the ducal Pomeranian vault in Wolgast, on the 6th May
1840._


Bogislaf XIV., who as a truth-loving, amicable, and pious
glossator, has annotated so many places in our text, found this
"last and happy hour," which he had so long desired, on the 10th
March 1637. When he had attained the age of fifty-seven years, his
death occurred at a period of unexampled misery, the like of which
before or since was never seen in our whole German fatherland. Yet
the destiny of the Zantalides which followed the princely
Pomeranian house, seemed in no way propitiated even by their
death. No; it raged, and rages still, against the last poor
remains of their mouldering clay. Bogislaff, during the horrors of
the thirty years' war, remained for _seventeen_ years
unburied, because none of the princes who fought for the
possession of Pomerania' would consent to bear the expense of the
burial, and the land was too poor to take the cost upon itself.
Yet his corpse suffered no further indignities like those of his
princely kinsfolk of Wolgast. For after ninety-four years we find
him still lying calmly in his coffin, looking upward to his God
through the little window which he so often sighed after. We shall
first take a look at him before we descend into the Wolgast vault
to contemplate the disgusting sacrilege which has been perpetrated
and permitted there. Every reader of sensibility will feel
interested in the following details, which are taken from
Oelrich's valuable work, "Memorials of the Pomeranian Dukes," p.
87:--

"On the 19th of April 1731, a royal commission opened the vault in
the castle-church of Stettin, wherein many of the noble princes of
Pomerania lay buried, and the coffin of Duke Bogislaff was broken
open by especial command. The body was found quite perfect. Even
the face was tolerably preserved, though the eyes had fallen in;
for the skin had dried over the features, and the beard was long
and somewhat red; the coffin was lined throughout with violet
velvet (some say black), bordered with stones which had the
appearance of turquoise. The corpse was dressed in a surplice,
similar in form to that worn by priests at the present day, but
fringed with silver, and likewise ornamented with turquoise. Upon
the left hand there was a diamond ring and another. The diamond
was quite pale, and the right hand was lying close to the side, as
if going to seize the dagger. Farther, they found a long and
massive gold chain suspended round the neck, and upon the breast a
silver plate, like the bottom of a silver beaker, upon which the
Pomeranian arms were engraved.

"Beneath the coffin of this last Duke of Pomerania lay the ducal
flag, but the pole was broken in two, either from design or in
consequence of decay; and above the coffin were remains of crape
and mouldered fragments of velvet. _Lave anima pia!_

"But the princely remains of Wolgast had indeed a mournful
destiny. True; they were not left unburied for a number of years,
but they were plundered and outraged, in such a disgraceful and
revolting manner, by church-robbers, that it is impossible even to
read the account of it in the Swedish protocol of 21st June 1688,
from which Heller gives extracts in his 'Chronicle of the Town of
Wolgast,' p. 346, without as much pain as emotion.
[Footnote: Only one of these robbers was seized-he was whipped
and banished; the second hanged himself, and the other escaped.
One was a Jew; the other two were the sexton and gravedigger of
the church.]

"Yet the Swedish Government seemed content to rest with the simple
investigation, and took no trouble about, or showed the least
respect for, the ashes of those to whom they were indebted for
land and people. For the coffins lay there just as the robbers
left them--broken open with axes and hatchets, or wrenched asunder
with crowbars, and still lie in this state. However the vault was
closed up, and no one was permitted to enter it unless in the
presence of one of the reigning family; for this reason very few
ever beheld these mournful remains. I myself would probably never
have had an opportunity of so doing, only that the Prussian
Government resolved on building some additions to the Wolgast
church; and, at the same time, desired the foundation to be
evened, for it had sunk in various places, and afterwards to wall
up the princely vault for ever. In order to work at the
foundation, it was necessary to remove the great stone which
covered the entrance to the vault, and many along with myself
availed themselves of this last opportunity to visit the interior.
Therefore, on the day named above, I descended with deep emotion
the steps that led to it. I found the vault was divided into two
compartments, having vaulted roofs of about seven or eight feet
high. In the first partition no coffin whatever was to be seen,
but I could distinguish already the glitter of the tin coffins in
the second compartment, which was reached by a further descent of
a few steps, and lit up by the torches and lanterns of numerous
visitors who had preceded me. The coffins were nine in number, and
mostly covered with tin; each lay on a tressel of mason-work, and
bore the marks, more or less, of the violence that had been
employed to wrench them open.

"The strong Philip I. began the mournful range. A gentleman handed
me his skull, in which scarcely a tooth was wanting. Then I
searched in the adjoining coffin for that of his spouse Maria, 'my
gracious Lady of Wolgast,' of Doctor Theodore's History. I found
it, took it in the other hand, and cannot describe the strange
feeling which came over me.

"When I had indulged some time in strange and deep emotions, I
laid down the honourable relics again in their coffins, and
stepped to that of Ernest Ludovic, the unfortunate lover of the
still more unfortunate Sidonia. According to the protocol of 1688,
which I held in my hand, there was to be seen there a violet
velvet mantle, and a cap without anything inside. There they
were--nothing more to find--all fallen in dust, the weak head as
the weak heart! Close to him lay his unfortunate wife, Sophia
Hedwig of Brunswick, both the most beautiful persons of their
time.

"But my interest was excited most by the contemplation of Philip
Julius, the last Duke of Pommern-Wolgast, who has only received a
passing notice in this book, but who was one of the most gifted,
and probably the most lamented Prince of his thousand-year-old
race. His coffin was of far costlier workmanship than the others,
and decorated with a row of gilded angels' heads; near it stood
the black wooden tressel, upon which it had originally been
placed, and which looked as fresh as if it had been only just
placed there, instead of having lain in the vault for two hundred
and fifteen years. A strange sensation crept over me! We were both
silent, till at last the gentleman began to search with his hand
in the grey mouldering dust, and along with some rags of velvet,
he brought up a damp, discoloured scrap of paper, which he
carelessly tore; but I instantly seized it, and joined the pieces
together again, for the signification of such little notes in the
coffins of old times was not unknown to me.

"And, in fact, I found what I sought; there was not only marked on
it the date of the Duke's burial, the 6th of May, which had a
mystic significance to me, since it was on the very 6th of May
that I was now standing to contemplate these mute yet eloquent
graves, but also there was noted down the text from which the
funeral sermon had been preached (2 Tim. iv. 7), as well as the
list of the psalms sung on the occasion, among which the closing
psalm--'When sorrow assails thee,' is still to be found in most
hymn-books. But my poor old Pomeranian heart could bear no more: I
placed the paper again in the coffin; and, while the tears poured
from my eyes as I ascended the steps, those beautiful old verses
came into my head, and I could not help reciting them aloud:--

'So must human pomp and stat
In the grave lie desolate.
He who wore the kingly crown,
With the base worm lieth down:
Ermined robe, and purple pall,
Leaveth he at death's weird call.

Fleeting, cheating human life,
Souls are perilled in thy strife;
Yet the pomps in which we trust,
All must perish!--dust to dust.
God alone will ever be;
Who serves Him reigns eternally!'"




MARY SCHWEIDLER



THE AMBER WITCH



THE MOST INTERESTING TRIAL FOR WITCHCRAFT EVER KNOWN

PRINTED FROM AN IMPERFECT MANUSCRIPT BY HER FATHER ABRAHAM
SCHWEIDLER, THE PASTOR OP COSEROW IN THE ISLAND OF USEDOM

EDITED BY

WILLIAM MEINHOLD DOCTOR OF THEOLOGY

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN BY

LADY DUFF GORDON




PREFACE

In laying before the public this deeply affecting and romantic
trial, which I have not without reason called on the title-page
the most interesting of all trials for witchcraft ever known, I
will first give some account of the history of the manuscript.

At Coserow, in the island of Usedom, my former cure, the same
which was held by our worthy author some two hundred years ago,
there existed under a seat in the choir of the church a sort of
niche, nearly on a level with the floor. I had, indeed, often seen
a heap of various writings in this recess; but owing to my short
sight, and the darkness of the place, I had taken them for
antiquated hymn-books, which were lying about in great numbers.
But one day, while I was teaching in the church, I looked for a
paper mark in the Catechism of one of the boys, which I could not
immediately find; and my old sexton, who was past eighty (and who,
although called Appelmann, was thoroughly unlike his namesake in
our story, being a very worthy, although a most ignorant man),
stooped down to the said niche, and took from it a folio volume
which I had never before observed, out of which he, without the
slightest hesitation, tore a strip of paper suited to my purpose,
and reached it to me. I immediately seized upon the book, and,
after a few minutes' perusal, I know not which was greater, my
astonishment or my vexation at this costly prize. The manuscript,
which was bound in vellum, was not only defective both at the
beginning and at the end, but several leaves had even been torn
out here and there in the middle. I scolded the old man as I had
never done during the whole course of my life; but he excused
himself, saying that one of my predecessors had given him the
manuscript for waste paper, as it had lain about there ever since
the memory of man, and he had often been in want of paper to twist
round the altar-candles, &c. The aged and half-blind pastor had
mistaken the folio for old parochial accounts which could be of no
more use to any one.

[Footnote: The original manuscript does indeed contain several
accounts which at first sight may have led to this mistake;
besides, the handwriting is extremely difficult to read, and in
several places the paper is discoloured and decayed.]


No sooner had I reached home than I fell to work upon my new
acquisition, and after reading a bit here and there with
considerable trouble, my interest was powerfully excited by the
contents.

I soon felt the necessity of making myself better acquainted with
the nature and conduct of these witch trials, with the
proceedings, nay, even with the history of the whole period in
which these events occur. But the more I read of these
extraordinary stories, the more was I confounded; and neither the
trivial Beeker (_Die bezauberte Welt_, "The Enchanted
World"), nor the more careful Horst (_Zauberbibliothek_, "The
Library of Magic"), to which, as well as to several other works on
the same subject, I had flown for information, could resolve my
doubts, but rather served to increase them.

Not alone is the demoniacal character, which pervades nearly all
these fearful stories, so deeply marked, as to fill the attentive
reader with feelings of alternate horror and dismay, but the
eternal and unchangeable laws of human feeling and action are
often arrested in a manner so violent and unforeseen, that the
understanding is entirely baffled. For instance, one of the
original trials which a friend of mine, a lawyer, discovered in
our province, contains the account of a mother, who, after she had
suffered the torture, and received the holy Sacrament, and was on
the point of going to the stake, so utterly lost all maternal
feeling, that her conscience obliged her to accuse as a witch her
only dearly loved daughter, a girl of fifteen, against whom no one
had ever entertained a suspicion, in order, as she said, to save
her poor soul. The court, justly amazed at an event which probably
has never since been paralleled, caused the state of the mother's
mind to be examined both by clergymen and physicians, whose
original testimonies are still appended to the records, and are
all highly favourable to her soundness of mind. The unfortunate
daughter, whose name was Elizabeth Hegel, was actually executed on
the strength of her mother's accusation. [Footnote: It is my
intention to publish this trial also, as it possesses very great
psychological interest.]

The explanation commonly received at the present day, that these
phenomena were produced by means of animal magnetism, is utterly
insufficient. How, for instance, could this account for the deeply
demoniacal nature of old Lizzie Kolken as exhibited in the
following pages? It is utterly incomprehensible, and perfectly
explains why the old pastor, notwithstanding the horrible deceits
practised on him in the person of his daughter, retained as firm a
faith in the truth of witchcraft as in that of the Gospel.

During the earlier centuries of the Middle Ages little was known
of witchcraft. The crime of magic, when it did occur, was
leniently punished. For instance, the council of Ancyra (314)
ordained the whole punishment of witches to consist in expulsion
from the Christian community. The Visigoths punished them with
stripes, and Charlemagne, by advice of his bishops, confined them
in prison until such time as they should sincerely repent.
[Footnote: Horst, _Zauberbibliothek_, vi. p. 231.] It was not
until very soon before the Reformation, that Innocent VIII.
lamented that the complaints of universal Christendom against the
evil practices of these women had become so general and so loud,
that the most vigorous measures must be taken against them; and
towards the end of the year 1489, he caused the notorious Hammer
for Witches (_Malleus Malleficarurn_) to be published,
according to which proceedings were set on foot with the most
fanatical zeal, not only in Catholic, but, strange to say, even in
Protestant Christendom, which in other respects abhorred
everything belonging to Catholicism. Indeed, the Protestants far
outdid the Catholics in cruelty, until, among the latter, the
nobleminded Jesuit, J. Spee, and among the former, but not until
seventy years later, the excellent Thomasius, by degrees put a
stop to these horrors.

After careful examination into the nature and characteristics of
witchcraft, I soon perceived that among all these strange and
often romantic stories, not one surpassed my "amber witch" in
lively interest; and I determined to throw her adventures into the
form of a romance. Fortunately, however, I was soon convinced that
her story was already in itself the most interesting of all
romances; and that I should do far better to leave it in its
original antiquated form, omitting whatever would be uninteresting
to modern readers, or so universally known as to need no
repetition. I have therefore attempted, not indeed to supply what
is missing at the beginning and end, but to restore those leaves
which have been torn out of the middle, imitating, as accurately
as I was able, the language and manner of the old biographer, in
order that the difference between the original narrative, and my
own interpolations, might not be too evident.

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