Mary Schweidler, the amber witch Part 5

_R_. She did not know, but thought--albeit she had no wish to fyle any one--that old Lizzie Kolken, who for many a long year had been in common repute as a witch, had done it all, and bewitched the cows in her name and then charmed them back again, as she pleased, only to bring her to misfortune.

_Q_. Why, then, had old Lizzie bewitched her own cow, _item_, suffered her own pig to die, if it was she that had made all the disturbance in the village, and could really charm?

_R_. She did not know; but belike there was some one (and here she looked at the Sheriff) who paid her double for it all.

_Q_. It was in vain that she sought to s.h.i.+ft the guilt from off herself; had she not bewitched old Paasch his crop, nay, even her own father's, and caused it to be trodden down by the devil, _item_, conjured all the caterpillars into her father's orchard?

_R_. The question was almost as monstrous as the deed would have been.

There sat her father, and his wors.h.i.+p might ask him whether she ever had shown herself an undutiful child to him. (Hereupon I would have risen to speak, but _Dom. Consul_ suffered me not to open my mouth, but went on with his examination; whereupon I remained silent and downcast.)

_Q_. Whether she did likewise deny that it was through her malice that the woman Witthan had given birth to a devil's imp, which straight-way started up and flew out at the window, so that when the midwife sought for it it had disappeared?

_R_. Truly she did; and indeed she had all the days of her life done good to the people instead of harm, for during the terrible famine she had often taken the bread out of her own mouth to share it among the others, especially the little children. To this the whole parish must needs bear witness, if they were asked; whereas witches and warlocks always did evil and no good to men, as our Lord Jesus taught (Matt. xii.), when the Pharisees blasphemed him, saying that he cast out devils by Beelzebub the prince of the devils; hence his wors.h.i.+p might see whether she could in truth be a witch.

_Q_. He would soon teach her to talk of blasphemies; he saw that her tongue was well hung; but she must answer the questions he asked her, and say nothing more. The question was not _what_ good she had done to the poor, but _wherewithal_ she had done it; she must now show how she and her father had of a sudden grown so rich that she could go pranking about in silken raiment, whereas she used to be so very poor?

Hereupon she looked towards me, and said, "Father, shall I tell?"

Whereupon I answered, "Yes, my child, now thou must openly tell all, even though we thereby become beggars." She accordingly told how, when our need was sorest, she had found the amber, and how much we had gotten for it from the Dutch merchants.

_Q_. What were the names of these merchants?

_R_. Dieterich von Pehnen and Jakob Kiekebusch; but, as we have heard from a schipper, they since died of the plague at Stettin.

_Q_. Why had we said nothing of such a G.o.dsend?

_R_. Out of fear of our enemy the Sheriff, who, as it seemed, had condemned us to die of hunger, inasmuch as he forbade the paris.h.i.+oners, under pain of heavy displeasure, to supply us with anything, saying, that he would send them a better parson.

Hereupon _Dom. Consul_ again looked the Sheriff sharply in the face, who answered that it was true he had said this, seeing that the parson had preached at him in the most scandalous manner from the pulpit; but that he knew very well, at the time, that they were far enough from dying of hunger.

_Q_. How came so much amber on the Streckelberg? She had best confess at once that the devil had brought it to her.

_R_. She knew nothing about that. But there was a great vein of amber there, as she could show to them all that very day; and she had broken out the amber, and covered the hole well over with fir-twigs, so that none should find it.

_Q_. When had she gone up the Streckelberg; by day or by night?

_R_. Hereupon she blushed, and for a moment held her peace; but presently made answer, "Sometimes by day, and sometimes by night."

_Q_. Why did she hesitate? She had better make a full confession of all, so that her punishment might be less heavy. Had she not there given over old Seden to Satan, who had carried him off through the air, and left only a part of his hair and brains sticking to the top of an oak?

_R_. She did not know whether that was his hair and brains at all, nor how it came there. She went to the tree one morning because she heard a woodp.e.c.k.e.r cry so dolefully. _Item_, old Paasch, who also had heard the cries, came up with his axe in his hand.

_Q_. Whether the woodp.e.c.k.e.r was not the devil himself, who had carried off old Seden?

_R_. She did not know: but he must have been dead some time, seeing that the blood and brains which the lad fetched down out of the tree were quite dried up.

_Q_. How and when, then, had he come by his death?

_R_. That Almighty G.o.d only knew. But Zuter his little girl had said, that one day, while she gathered nettles for the cows under Seden his hedge, she heard the goodman threaten his squint-eyed wife that he would tell the parson that he now knew of a certainty that she had a familiar spirit; whereupon the goodman had presently disappeared. But that this was a child's tale, and she would fyle no one on the strength of it.

Hereupon _Dom. Consul_ again looked the Sheriff steadily in the face, and said, "Old Lizzie Kolken must be brought before us this very day": whereto the Sheriff made no answer; and he went on to ask,

_Q_. Whether, then, she still maintained that she knew nothing of the devil?

_R_. She maintained it now, and would maintain it until her life's end.

_Q_. And nevertheless, as had been seen by witnesses, she had been re-baptized by him in the sea in broad daylight.--Here again she blushed, and for a moment was silent.

_Q_. Why did she blush again? She should for G.o.d his sake think on her salvation, and confess the truth.

_R_. She had bathed herself in the sea, seeing that the day was very hot; that was the whole truth.

_Q_. What chaste maiden would ever bathe in the sea? Thou liest; or wilt thou even yet deny that thou didst bewitch old Paasch his little girl with a white roll?

_R_. Alas! alas! she loved the child as though it were her own little sister; not only had she taught her as well as all the other children without reward, but during the heavy famine she had often taken the bit from her own mouth to put it into the little child's. How, then, could she have wished to do her such grievous harm?

_Q_. Wilt thou even yet deny?--Reverend Abraham, how stubborn is your child! See here, is this no witches' salve, which the constable fetched out of thy coffer last night? Is this no witches' salve, eh?

_R_. It was a salve for the skin, which would make it soft and white, as the apothecary at Wolgast had told her, of whom she bought it.

_Q_. Hereupon he shook his head, and went on: How! wilt thou then lastly deny that on this last Sat.u.r.day the both July, at twelve o'clock at night, thou didst on the Streckelberg call upon thy paramour the devil in dreadful words, whereupon he appeared to thee in the shape of a great hairy giant, and clipped thee and toyed with thee?

At these words she grew more pale than a corpse, and tottered so that she was forced to hold by a chair: and I, wretched man, who would readily have sworn away my life for her, when I saw and heard this, my senses forsook me, so that I fell down from the bench, and _Dom. Consul_ had to call in the constable to help me up.

When I had come to myself a little, and the impudent varlet saw our common consternation, he cried out, grinning at the court the while, 'Is it all out? is it all out? has she confessed?' Whereupon _Dom. Consul_ again showed him the door with a sharp rebuke, as might have been expected; and it is said that this knave played the pimp for the Sheriff, and indeed I think he would not otherwise have been so bold.

_Summa_: I should well-nigh have perished in my distress, but for the little rose, which by the help of G.o.d's mercy kept me up bravely; and now the whole court rose and exhorted my poor fainting child, by the living G.o.d, and as she would save her soul, to deny no longer, but in pity to herself and her father to confess the truth.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Apparition on the Streckelberg]

Hereupon she heaved a deep sigh, and grew as red as she had been pale before, insomuch that even her hand upon the chair was like scarlet, and she did not raise her eyes from the ground.

_R_. She would now then confess the simple truth, as she saw right well that wicked people had stolen after and watched her at nights. That she had been to seek for amber on the mountain, and that to drive away fear she had, as she was wont to do at her work, recited the Latin _carmen_ which her father had made on the ill.u.s.trious King Gustavus Adolphus: when young Rudiger of Nienkerken, who had ofttimes been at her father's house and talked of love to her, came out of the coppice, and when she cried out for fear, spoke to her in Latin, and clasped her in his arms. That he wore a great wolf's-skin coat, so that folks should not know him if they met him, and tell the lord his father that he had been on the mountain by night.

At this her confession I fell into sheer despair, and cried in great wrath, "O thou unG.o.dly and undutiful child, after all, then, thou hast a paramour! Did not I forbid thee to go up the mountain by night? What didst thou want on the mountain by night?" and I began to moan and weep and wring my hands, so that _Dom. Consul_ even had pity on me, and drew near to comfort me. Meanwhile she herself came towards me, and began to defend herself, saying, with many tears, that she had gone up the mountain by night, against my commands, to get so much amber that she might secretly buy for me, against my birthday, the _Opera Sancti Augustim_, which the Cantor at Wolgast wanted to sell. That it was not her fault that the young lord lay in wait for her one night; and that she would swear to me, by the living G.o.d, that nought that was unseemly had happened between them there, and that she was still a maid.

And herewith the first hearing was at end, for after _Dom. Consul_ had whispered somewhat into the ear of the Sheriff, he called in the constable again, and bade him keep good watch over _Rea_; _item_, not to leave her at large in her dungeon any longer, but to put her in chains. These words pierced my very heart, and I besought his wors.h.i.+p to consider my sacred office, and my ancient n.o.ble birth, and not to do me such dishonour as to put my daughter in chains. That I would answer for her to the wors.h.i.+pful court with my own head that she would not escape. Whereupon _Dom. Consul_, after he had gone to look at the dungeon himself, granted me my request, and commanded the constable to leave her as she had been hitherto.

_The Nineteenth Chapter_

HOW SATAN, BY THE PERMISSION OF THE MOST RIGHTEOUS G.o.d, SOUGHT ALTOGETHER TO RUIN US, AND HOW WE LOST ALL HOPE

The same day, at about three in the afternoon, when I was gone to Conrad Seep his alehouse to eat something, seeing that it was now nearly two days since I had tasted aught save my tears, and he had placed before me some bread and sausage, together with a mug of beer, the constable came into the room and greeted me from the Sheriff, without, however, so much as touching his cap, asking whether I would not dine with his lords.h.i.+p; that his lords.h.i.+p had not remembered till now that I belike was still fasting, seeing the trial had lasted so long. Hereupon I made answer to the constable that I already had my dinner before me, as he saw himself, and desired that his lords.h.i.+p would hold me excused. Hereat the fellow wondered greatly, and answered; did I not see that his lords.h.i.+p wished me well, albeit I had preached at him as though he were a Jew? I should think on my daughter, and be somewhat more ready to do his lords.h.i.+p's will, whereby peradventure all would yet end well. For his lords.h.i.+p was not such a rough a.s.s as _Dom. Consul_, and meant well by my child and me, as beseemed a righteous magistrate.

After I had with some trouble rid myself of this impudent fox, I tried to eat a bit, but nothing would go down save the beer. I therefore soon sat and thought again whether I would not lodge with Conrad Seep, so as to be always near my child; _item_, whether I should not hand over my poor misguided flock to M. Vigelius, the pastor of Benz, for such time as the Lord still should prove me. In about an hour I saw through the window how that an empty coach drove to the castle, and the Sheriff and _Dom. Consul_ straightway stepped thereinto with my child; _item_, the constable climbed up behind. Hereupon I left everything on the table and ran to the coach, asking humbly whither they were about to take my poor child; and when I heard they were going to the Streckelberg to look after the amber, I begged them to take me also, and to suffer me to sit by my child, for who could tell how much longer I might yet sit by her! This was granted to me, and on the way the Sheriff ordered me to take up my abode in the castle and to dine at his table as often as I pleased, and that he would, moreover, send my child her meat from his own table. For that he had a Christian heart, and well knew that we were to forgive our enemies. But I refused his kindness with humble thanks, as my child did also, seeing we were not yet so poor that we could not maintain ourselves. As we pa.s.sed by the watermill the unG.o.dly varlet there again thrust his head out of a hole and pulled wry faces at my child; but, dear reader, he got something to remember it by; for the Sheriff beckoned to the constable to fetch the fellow out, and after he had reproached him with the tricks he had twice played my child, the constable had to take the coachman his new whip and to give him fifty lashes, which, G.o.d knows, were not laid on with a feather. He bellowed like a bull, which, however, no one heard for the noise of the mill-wheels, and when at last he did as though he could not stir, we left him lying on the ground and went on our way.