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Of Sidonia's defence--Item, how she has a quarrel with Joachim Wedel, and bewitches him to death.
At three of the clock on the appointed day, the grand Rittersaal (knights' hall) of the stately castle of Old Stettin was crowded with ministers, councillors, and officials, who had met there by command of their illustrious mightinesses, Duke Philip, Prince and Lord of Stettin, and Francis, Bishop of Camyn. Amongst the nobles assembled were Albert, Count of Eberstein, Lord of Neugarten and Massow; Eustache Flemming, hereditary Grand Marshal; Christoph von Mildenitz, privy councillor and dean of the honourable chapter of Camyn; Caspar von Stogentin, captain at Friedrichswald; Christoph von Plate, master of the ceremonies; Martin Chemnitz, Chancellor of Pomerania; Dr. Cramer, my worthy lord father-in-law, vice-superintendens; Dr. Constantius Oesler, medicus; Christian Ludeck, attorney-general; Mag. Joel of Grypswald, and many others. These all stood in two long rows, waiting for their princely Graces. For it was rumoured that Sidonia had already arrived with the fish-sellers from Grabow, which, indeed, was the case; and she had, moreover, packed seven hogsheads of her best beer on the waggon along with her, purposing to sell it to profit in the town; but the devil truly got his profit out of the said beer, for by it not only our good town of Stettin, but likewise the whole land, was nearly brought to ruin and utter destruction, as we shall hear further on.
Summa.--When all the afore-named were ranged in rank and order, the great doors of the hall were flung wide open, and Duke Philip entered first. Every one knows that he was small, delicate, almost thin in person, pale of face, with a moustache On his upper lip, and his hair combed à la Nazarena.
[Footnote: Divided in the centre, and falling down straight at each side, as in the pictures of our Saviour.]
He wore a yellow doublet with silver-coloured satin sleeves, scarlet hose trimmed with gold lace, white silk stockings, and white boots, with gold spurs; round his neck was a Spanish ruff of white point lace, and by his side a jewel-hilted sword; his breast and girdle were also profusely decorated with diamonds. So his Highness advanced up the hall, wearing his grey beaver hat, from which drooped a stately plume of black herons' feathers, fastened with an aigrette of diamonds. This he did not remove, as was customary, until all present had made their obeisance and deferentially kissed his hand. Duke Francis followed in his episcopal robes, with a mitre upon his head, and a bishop's crook of ivory in his hand. The other young dukes, Ulrich, George, and Bogislaus, remained cautiously away.
[Footnote: Note of Bogislaff XIV.--Yes; but not out of fear. I was celebrating my espousals, as I have said.]
And the blood-standard waved from the towers, and the princely soldatesca, with all the officers, lined the castle court, so that nothing was left undone that could impress this terrible sorceress with due fear and respect for their illustrious Graces.
And when the order was given for Sidonia to be admitted, the two Princes leaned proudly on a table at the upper end of the hall, while the assembled nobles formed two long lines at each side. Three rolls of the drum announced the approach of the prisoner. But when she entered, accompanied by the lord provost, in her nun's robes and white veil, on which the key of her office was embroidered in gold, a visible shudder passed over her frame; collecting herself, however, quickly, she advanced to kiss their Graces' hands, but Bishop Francis, after he had drawn his symbolum with chalk before him on the table, namely, H, H, H, that is, "Help, helper, help," cried out, "Back, Satan! stir not from thy place; and know that if thou shouldst attempt any of thy diabolical sorceries upon my dear lord and brother here (as for me, this honourable, consecrated, and priestly robe saves me from thy power) thou shalt be torn limb from limb, and thy members flung to feed the dogs, while thou art yet living to behold it, accursed, thrice-accursed witch!"
And his Grace, in his great rage against her, struck the table with his ivory crook, so that he broke a bottle filled with red ink which stood thereon, and the said ink (alas! what an evil omen) poured down upon Duke Philip's white silk stockings, and stained them red like blood.
Meanwhile Sidonia exclaimed, "What! is there no leech here to feel the pulse of his Serene Highness? Surely the dog-days, that we are in the middle of, have turned his brain completely. Any little bit of mother-wit he might have had is clean gone. What! she had scarcely entered--knew not yet of what she was accused, and she was 'Satan!' 'a thrice-accursed witch!' who was to be cut up into little bits to feed dogs! Had any man ever heard the like? Would the nobles of Pomerania, whom she saw around her, suffer one of their own rank--a lady of castles and lands--to be thus handled? She called upon them all as witnesses, and after the audienza a notary should be summoned to note all down, for she would assuredly appeal to the states of the kingdom, and bring her cause before the Emperor."
Hereupon Duke Philip interposed--"Lady, our dear brother is of a hasty temperament; yet you can scarce wonder at his speech, or take it ill, when you consider the terrible evils which you have brought upon our ancient and illustrious race. However, as an upright and good prince must judge the cause of his subjects before his own, I shall first inquire what caused the sudden illness of the sheriff, Eggert Sparling, and of the abbess, Magdalena, that time they brought my father's letter to you?--that letter which you said was a forgery, and flung into the fire."
Illa.--"What caused it? How could she remember? It was a long time ago; but so far as she recollected, they came in when she was brewing beer or cooking sausages, and she opened the window to admit fresh air; before this window they both sat and talked, to be out of the smell of the cooking; could they not have got rheumatism by such means? Let his Grace ask the doctors did it require witchcraft to give a man the rheumatism, who sat in a draught of air?"
The Duke.--"But both were cured again as quickly as they had taken it."
Illa>/i>.--"Ah, yes! She would have done her best to cure even her greatest enemy, for the holy Saviour had said, 'Bless them that curse you; do good to them that hate you; pray for them that persecute you.' To such commands of her Lord she had ever been a faithful servant, and therefore searched out of her cookery-book for a sympatheticum, but for thanks, lo, now what she gets! Such was the way of this wicked world. Perhaps my gracious lord would like to know of the sympatheticum; she would say it for him, if he wished."
"Keep it to yourself, woman," roared Duke Francis, "and tell us why you burned my father's letter?"
Illa.--"Because, in truth, she deemed it a forgery. How could she believe a knave who had already deceived his own gracious Prince? For did not this base sheriff appropriate to his own use eleven mares, one hundred sheep, sixteen head of cattle, and forty-two boars, all the property of his Highness, to the great detriment of the princely revenue. Item, at the last cattle sale he had put three hundred florins into his own bag, and many more evil deceits had this wicked cheat practised."
"Keep to the question," cried Duke Philip, "and answer only what you are asked. What was that matter concerning the priest which caused you to complain of him to our princely consistorium?"
Illa.--"Ay! and no notice taken, though it was a scandal that cried to Heaven, how this licentious young carl was admitted into the convent as chaplain, when the regulations especially declared that an honourable old man should hold the office. She prayed, therefore, that another priest might be appointed."
Hereat my worthy father-in-law, Dr. Cramer, said, "Good lady, be not so hasty; from all we have heard, this priest is a right worthy and discreet young man."
Illa.--"Right worthy and discreet, truly! as her old maid could testify; or the abbess, with whom he locked himself up; or Dorothea Stettin, with whom he was discovered behind the holy altar. Fie! The scandal that such a fellow should be convent chaplain! and that a Christian government should suffer it!" (spitting three times on the ground.)
The Duke.--"The inquiry concerning him was pending. For what cause had she forced herself into the sub-prioret?"
Illa.--"She! Forced herself! Forced herself into the sub-prioret! What devil had invented this story? Why, the abbess and the whole convent were witness that she was forced into it; for as Dorothea Stettin was ashamed after that business behind the altar when she was discovered with the priest--besides, was a weak, silly thing at all times--she had consented to relieve her from the sub-prioret at her (Dorothea's) earnest supplication and prayer."
The Duke.--"Wherefore had she treated the novices with such cruelty, and run at them with axes and knives, to do them grievous bodily harm?"
Illa.--"They were a set of young wantons, always gossiping about marriage and loons, therefore she had held a strict hand over them, which she would not deny; particularly as if any of the nuns fell into sin, the law decreed that she was to be beheaded. Was she therefore wrong or right? Truly the abbess said nothing, for she was as bad as any of them, and had locked herself up with the priest."
The Duke.--"What caused the sudden death of the convent porter?"
Illa.-"What! was this, too, laid on her as a crime? Why, at last, if any one died in Wolgast, or another in Marienfliess during her absence, she would have to answer for it."
The Duke.--"But Dr. Schwalenberg had died in the self-same way, and as suddenly--tumbling down dead upon the pavement."
Illa.--"The knave was so drunk when he ran after her with a horsewhip to beat her, that he tumbled down on the stones; and mayhap the shock killed him, as it did that other knave who flung her against the wall; or that he got a fit; for such would have been a just judgment of God on him, as it is written (Malachi iii. 5), 'I will be a swift witness for the widow and the orphan.' Ah! truly she was a poor orphan, and the just God had been her swift witness; for which, all praise and glory be to His name for ever" (weeping).
Here Christoph Mildenitz, canon of Camyn, exclaimed, "Marry, thou wicked viper, I have seen the corpse of this same Schwalenberg myself, and every one, even the physicians, said that he had died no natural death."
Illa.--"Must the fat canon put in his word now? Ha! this was her thanks for the gloves she had knit him, and which he wore at this present moment, for she knew them, even at that distance, by the black seams round the thumbs. But so it was ever: she had no greater enemies than those whom she had done kindness to."
The Duke.--"Prechln von Buslar also accused her of having brought his two sons to death, and making a long man's beard grow upon the little Bartel."
Illa (laughing).--"Ah! it is easy to see by your Grace that we are in the dog-days. Your Highness must pardon my mirth; but who could help it? Merciful God! are Thy wonders, sent to fright the world and turn men from sin, to be called devil's sorceries! To what a pass is the world come! Has your Highness forgotten all history? Know you not that God gives many signs to His people, and speaks in wonders? Yet, when did men, till now, say that these signs were of the devil alone, and persecute and destroy helpless women by reason of them? Speak, gracious Duke--speak, ye noble lords--have ye not tortured, and burned, and put to death weak and innocent women without number for these things, and must ye needs now seek my life? And when was it ever known, till now, that nobles sat in judgment upon one of their own rank--a lady of as high blood and proud descent as any of ye here--for old wives' tales like these, and children's fooleries? Speak! Whoso saith I lie, let him step forward and convict me."
[Footnote: It was a fact that the persecution of witches had risen at this period almost to a mania.]
There was a dead silence in the hall when she had ended, and even Duke Philip looked down ashamed, for he could not but acknowledge that she spoke the truth, however unwillingly he believed aught the vile sorceress uttered.
At last Bishop Francis spake--"Why then didst thou blow upon the children of Prechln of Buslar, if it were not to bewitch them to death?"
Whereupon the witch answered scornfully--"If that could kill, then were we all dead long since, for the wind blows on us every minute, and we blow upon our hot broth to cool it, yet who dies thereof? How could a bishop be so sunk in superstition? As to Prechln of Buslar, no wonder if God had smitten him for his pride and arrogance, as it is said (Luke i. 51), 'He scatters such as are proud of heart,' for, though her feudal vassal, he had refused to do her homage; therefore here was no witch-work, but only God's work, testifying against sinful haughtiness and pride.
"Moreover, it was false that she had blown upon the children; the silly fool Prechln had imagined it all--nothing was too absurd for stupidity like his to believe; and what then? Can't people die but by witchcraft? Did St. Peter bewitch that covetous knave Ananias (Acts v.) when he fell down dead at his feet for having lied to the Holy Ghost? Let the honourable convocation answer her truly."
Summa.--The end of all was (as we may imagine) that the cunning Satan was allowed to depart in peace, only receiving a wholesome admonition from his Highness Duke Philip, and another from my worthy father-in-law, Dr. Cramer.
But what happened as she returned to her lodgment in the Rüdenberg Street? Behold Joachim Wedel of Cremzow, whom she had made contracted, sat at his window to enjoy the air, but the evil hag no sooner looked up and saw him than she began to mock him, twisting her mouth awry, even as he twisted his mouth. When he observed her, his face grew red with anger, and he cried out of the window, "Ha, thou accursed witch, I am not so help--help--help--helpless as thou thinkest; so do not twi--twi--twi--twist thy mouth at me that way."
To which Sidonia only answered with the one word "Wait!" and passed on, but returned soon again with a notary and two witnesses (one was the landlord of the inn where she had left her beer), stepped up to the chamber where Joachim sat, and bid them take down that he had called her an accursed witch while she was quietly going along the street to her lodgment.
Poor Wedel vainly tried to speak in his defence; the hag maintained her assertion, and prayed that the just God who brought all liars to destruction would avenge her cause, if it were His gracious will, for the Scripture said (Psalm v. 7), "I will destroy them that speak leasing." Therefore she left him and all her other enemies in the hand of God. He would take vengeance!
And oh, horror! scarcely had she returned to her lodgment when the poor man began to scream, "There is some one sitting within my breast, and lifting up the breast-bone!" Thus he screamed and screamed three days and three nights long; no physician, not even Dr. Constantinus, could help him, and finally, when he died, his body presented the same appearances precisely as those of Dr. Schwalenberg and the convent porter, as the doctors who dissected him affirmed upon oath. He was a clever man, learned and well read, and left Annales behind him, a work which this cruel witch caused to remain unfinished.
And further, it was a strange thing (whether of witchcraft or of God, I cannot say) that except my gracious Duke Philip, almost every one present at this remarkable colloquium died within the year; for example, Count Albert, Eustache Flemming, Caspar von Stogentin, Christoph von Mildenitz--all lay in their graves before the year was out.
[Footnote: Some place the death of Joachim Wedel so early as 1606. The whole matter is taken, almost word for word, from the criminal records in the Berlin Library; and, according to Dähnert, the first question on the book concerned the death of this man. His, Annales include the years from 1501 to 1606; they contain the whole history of that period, but the work has never been printed. Dähnert, however, vol. ii. Pomeranian Library, gives some extracts therefrom; also, in Franz Kock's "Recollections of Dr. John Bugenhagen," Stettin, 1817, we find this chronicle quoted.]