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Sidonia The Sorceress
By William Mienhold
VOLUME I
BOOK III.
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.
When Sidonia went to visit the abbess, as she had promised, she found her lying in bed and moaning, so that it might have melted the heart of a stone; but the old witch seemed quite surprised--"What could be the matter with the dear, good mother? but by God's help she would try and cure her. Only, concerning this little matter of the refectory, it might as well be settled first, for Anna Apenborg told her the room was to be taken from her; but would not the good mother permit her to keep it?"
And when the tortured matron answered, "Oh yes; keep it, keep it," Sidonia went on--
"There was just another little favour she expected for curing her dear mother (for, by God's help, she expected to cure her). This was, to make her sub-prioress in place of Dorothea Stettin; for, in the first place, the situation was due to her rank, she being the most illustrious lady in the convent, dowered with castles and lands; secondly, because her illustrious forefathers had helped to found this convent; and thirdly, it was due to her age, for she was the natural mother of all these young doves, and much more fitted to keep them in order and strict behaviour than Dorothea Stettin."
Here the abbess answered, "How could she make her sub-prioress while the other lived? This was not to be done? Truly sister Dorothea was somewhat prudish and whining, this she could not deny, for she had suffered many crosses in her path; but, withal, she was an upright, honest creature, with the best and simplest heart in the world; and so little selfishness, that verily she would lay down her life for the sisterhood, if it were necessary."
Illa.--"A good heart was all very well, but what could it do without respect? and how could a poor fool be respected who fell into fits if she saw a bride, particularly here, where the young sisters thought of nothing but marriage from morning till night."
Hæc.--"Yet she was held in great respect and honour by all the sisterhood, as she herself could testify."
Illa.--"Stuff! she must be sub-prioress, and there was an end of it, or the abbess might lie groaning there till she was as stiff as a pole."
"Alas! Sidonia," answered the abbess, "I would rather lie here as stiff as a pole--or, in other words, lie here a corpse, for I understand thy meaning--than do aught that was unjust."
Illa.--"What was unjust? The old goose need not be turned out of her office by force, but persuaded out of it--that would be an easy matter, if she were so humble and excellent a creature."
Hæc.--"But then deceit must be practised, and that she could never bring herself to."
Illa.--"Yet you could all practise deceit against me, and send off that complaint to his Highness the Prince."
Hæc.--"There was no falsehood there nor deceit, but the openly expressed wish of the whole convent, and of his worship the sheriff."
Illa.--"Then let the whole convent and his worship the sheriff make her well again; she would not trouble herself about the matter."
Whereupon she rose to depart, but the suffering abbess stretched out her hands, and begged, for the sake of Jesus, that she would release her from this torture! "Take everything--everything thou wishest, Sidonia--only leave me my good conscience. Thy dying hour must one day come too; oh! think on that."
Illa.--"The dying hour is a long way off yet" (and she moved to the door).
Hæc (murmuring):--
"Why should health from God estrange thee? Morning cometh and may change thee; Life, to-day, its hues may borrow Where the grave-worm feeds to-morrow."
Illa.--"Look to yourself then. Speak! Make me sub-prioress, and be Cured on the instant."
Hæc (turning herself back upon the pillow).--"No, no, temptress; begone:--
"'Softest pillow for the dying, Is a conscience void of dread.'
Go, leave me; my life is in the hand of God. 'For if we live, we live unto the Lord; and if we die, we die unto the Lord. Living, therefore, or dying, we are the Lord's.'"
So saying, the pious mother turned her face to the wall, and Sidonia went out of the chamber.
In a little while, however, she returned--"Would the good mother promise, at least, to offer no opposition, if Dorothea Stettin proposed, of her own free will, to resign the office of sub-prioress? If so, let her reach forth her hand; she would soon find the pains leave her."
The poor abbess assented to this, and oh, wonder! as it came, so it went; first out of the little finger, and then by degrees out of the whole body, so that the old mother wept for joy, and thanked her murderess.
Just then the door opened, and David Ludeck, the chaplain, whom the abbess had sent for, entered in his surplice. He was a fine tall man, of about thirty-five years, with bright red lips and jet-black beard.
He wondered much on hearing how the abbess had been cured by what Sidonia called "sympathies," and smelled devil's work in it, but said nothing--for he was afraid; spoke kindly to the witch-hag even, and extolled her learning and the nobility of her race; declaring that he knew well that the Von Borks had helped mainly to found this cloister.
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.