The Amber Witch

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And now when all was ready, and the people seated on the earth, I said,
"Behold how the Lord still feeds his people Israel in the wilderness with
fresh quails: if now he did yet more, and sent us a piece of manna bread
from heaven, what think ye? Would ye then ever weary of believing in him,
and not rather willingly endure all want, tribulation, hunger and thirst,
which he may hereafter lay upon you according to his gracious will?"
Whereupon they all answered and said, "Yea, surely!" _Ego_: "Will you then
promise me this in truth?" And they said again, "Yea, that will we!" Then
with tears I drew forth the loaf from my breast, held it on high, and
cried, "Behold, then, thou poor believing little flock, how sweet a manna
loaf your faithful Redeemer hath sent ye through me!" Whereupon they all
wept, sobbed and groaned; and the little children again came running up
and held out their hands, crying, "See, bread, bread!" But as I myself
could not pray for heaviness of soul, I bade Paasch his little girl say
the _Gratias_ the while my Mary cut up the loaf and gave to each his
share. And now we all joyfully began to eat our meat from God in the
wilderness.

Meanwhile I had to tell in what manner I had found the blessed manna
bread, wherein I neglected not again to exhort them to lay to heart this
great sign and wonder, how that God in his mercy had done to them as of
old to the prophet Elijah, to whom a raven brought bread in his great need
in the wilderness; as likewise this bread had been given to me by means of
a raven, which showed it to me, when otherwise I might have passed it by
in my heaviness without ever seeing it.

When we were satisfied with food, I said the thanksgiving from Luke xii.
24, where the Lord saith, "Consider the ravens: for they neither sow nor
reap; which neither have storehouse nor barn; and God feedeth them:
how much more are ye better than the fowls?" But our sins stank before
the Lord. For old Lizzie, as I afterwards heard, would not eat her
birds because she thought them unsavoury, but threw them among the
juniper-bushes; whereupon the wrath of the Lord was kindled against us as
of old against the people of Israel, and at night we found but seven birds
in the snares, and next morning but two. Neither did any raven come again
to give us bread. Wherefore I rebuked old Lizzie, and admonished the
people to take upon themselves willingly the righteous chastisement of the
Most High God, to pray without ceasing, to return to their desolate
dwellings, and to see whether the all-merciful God would peradventure give
them more on the sea. That I also would call upon him with prayer night
and day, remaining for a time in the cavern with my daughter and the maid
to watch the springes, and see whether his wrath might be turned from us.
That they should meanwhile put my manse to rights to the best of their
power, seeing that the cold was become very irksome to me. This they
promised me, and departed with many sighs. What a little flock! I counted
but twenty-five souls where there used to be above eighty: all the rest
had been slain by hunger, pestilence, or the sword. I then abode a while
alone and sorrowing in the cave, praying to God, and sent my daughter with
the maid into the village to see how things stood at the manse; _item_, to
gather together the books and papers, and also to bring me word whether
Hinze the carpenter, whom I had straightway sent back to the village, had
knocked together some coffins for the poor corpses, so that I might bury
them next day. I then went to look at the springes, but found only one
single little bird, whereby I saw that the wrath of God had not yet passed
away. Howbeit, I found a fine blackberry bush, from which I gathered
nearly a pint of berries, and put them, together with the bird, in Staffer
Zuter his pot, which the honest fellow had left with us for a while, and
set them on the fire for supper against my child and the maid should
return. It was not long before they came through the coppice and told me
of the fearful devastation which Satan had made in the village and manse
by the permission of all-righteous God. My child had gathered together a
few books, which she brought with her, above all, a _Virgilius_ and a
Greek Bible. And after she had told me that the carpenter would not have
done till next day, and we had satisfied the cravings of hunger, I made
her read to me again, for the greater strengthening of my faith, the
_locus_ about the blessed raven from the Greek of Luke, at the twelfth
chapter; also, the beautiful _locus parallelus_, Matt. vi. After which the
maid said the evening blessing, and we all went into the cave to rest for
the night. When I awoke next morning, just as the blessed sun rose out the
sea and peeped over the mountain, I heard my poor hungry child already
standing outside the cave reciting the beautiful verses about the joys of
paradise which St. Augustine wrote and I had taught her. She sobbed for
grief as she spoke the words:--

Uno pane vivunt cives utriusque patriae;
Avidi et semper pleni, quod habent desiderant.
Non sacietas fastidit, neque fames cruciat;
Inhiantes semper edunt, et edentes inhiant.
Flos perpetuus rosarum ver agit perpetuum;
Candent lilia, rubescit crocus, sudat balsamum,
Virent prata, vernant sata, rivi mellis influunt;
Pigmentorum spirat odor liquor et aromatum,
Pendent poma floridorum non lapsura nemorum.
Non alternat luna vices, sol vel cursus syderum.
Agnus est faelicis urbis lumen inocciduum.

At these words my own heart was melted; and when she ceased from speaking,
I asked, "What art thou doing, my child?" Whereupon she answered, "Father,
I am eating." Thereat my tears now indeed began to flow, and I praised her
for feeding her soul, as she had no meat for her body. I had not, however,
spoken long, before she cried to me to come and look at the great wonder
that had risen out of the sea, and already appeared over the cave. For
behold a cloud, in shape just like a cross, came over us, and let great
heavy drops, as big or bigger than large peas, fall on our heads, after
which it sank behind the coppice. I presently arose and ran up the
mountain with my daughter to look after it. It floated on towards the
Achterwater, where it spread itself out into a long blue streak, whereon
the sun shone so brightly that it seemed like a golden bridge on which, as
my child said, the blessed angels danced. I fell on my knees with her and
thanked the Lord that our cross had passed away from us; but, alas! our
cross was yet to come, as will be told hereafter.

_The Eighth Chapter_

HOW OUR NEED WAXED SORER AND SORER, AND HOW I SENT OLD ILSE WITH ANOTHER
LETTER TO PUDGLA, AND HOW HEAVY A MISFORTUNE THIS BROUGHT UPON ME

Next day, when I had buried the poor corpses amid the lamentations of the
whole village (by the same token that they were all buried under where the
lime-tree overhangs the wall), I heard with many sighs that neither the
sea nor the Achterwater would yield anything. It was now ten days since
the poor people had caught a single fish. I therefore went out into the
field, musing how the wrath of the just God might be turned from us,
seeing that the cruel winter was now at hand, and neither corn, apples,
fish nor flesh to be found in the village, nor even throughout all the
parish. There was indeed plenty of game in the forests of Coserow and
Uekeritze; but the old forest ranger, Zabel Nehring, had died last year of
the plague, and there was no new one in his place. Nor was there a musket
nor a grain of powder to be found in all the parish; the enemy had robbed
and broken everything: we were therefore forced, day after day, to see
how the stags and the roes, the hares and the wild boars, _et cet_., ran
past us, when we would so gladly have had them in our bellies, but had no
means of getting at them: for they were too cunning to let themselves be
caught in pit-falls. Nevertheless, Claus Peer succeeded in trapping a roe,
and gave me a piece of it, for which may God reward him. _Item_, of
domestic cattle there was not a head left; neither was there a dog, nor
a cat, which the people had not either eaten in their extreme hunger,
or knocked on the head or drowned long since. Albeit old farmer Paasch
still owned two cows; _item_, an old man in Uekeritze was said to have
one little pig:--this was all. Thus, then, nearly all the people lived on
blackberries and other wild fruits: the which also soon grew to be scarce,
as may easily be guessed. Besides all this, a boy of fourteen was missing
(old Labahn his son) and was never more heard of, so that I shrewdly think
that the wolves devoured him.

And now let any Christian judge by his own heart in what sorrow and
heaviness I took my staff in my hand, seeing that my child fell away like
a shadow from pinching hunger; although I myself, being old, did not, by
the help of God's mercy, find any great failing in my strength. While I
thus went continually weeping before the Lord, on the way to Uekeritze, I
fell in with an old beggar with his wallet, sitting on a stone, and eating
a piece of God's rare gift, to wit, a bit of bread. Then truly did my poor
mouth so fill with water that I was forced to bow my head and let it run
upon the earth before I could ask, "Who art thou? and whence comest thou?
seeing that thou hast bread." Whereupon he answered that he was a poor man
of Bannemin, from whom the enemy had taken all; and as he had heard that
the Lieper Winkel had long been in peace, he had travelled thither to beg.
I straightway answered him, "Oh, poor beggar-man, spare to me, a sorrowful
servant of Christ, who is poorer even than thyself, one little slice of
bread for his wretched child; for thou must know that I am the pastor of
this village, and that my daughter is dying of hunger. I beseech thee by
the living God not to let me depart without taking pity on me, as pity
also hath been shown to thee!" But the beggar-man would give me none,
saying that he himself had a wife and four children, who were likewise
staggering towards death's door under the bitter pangs of hunger; that the
famine was sorer far in Bannemin than here, where we still had berries;
whether I had not heard that but a few days ago a woman (he told me her
name, but horror made me forget it) had there killed her own child, and
devoured it from hunger? That he could not therefore help me, and I might
go to the Lieper Winkel myself.

I was horror-stricken at his tale, as is easy to guess, for we in our own
trouble had not yet heard of it, there being little or no traffic between
one village and another; and thinking on Jerusalem, and sheer despairing
because the Lord had visited us, as of old that ungodly city, although we
had not betrayed or crucified him, I almost forgot all my necessities, and
took my staff in my hand to depart. But I had not gone more than a few
yards when the beggar called me to stop, and when I turned myself round he
came towards me with a good hunch of bread which he had taken out of his
wallet, and said, "There! but pray for me also, so that I may reach my
home; for if on the road they smell that I have bread, my own brother
would strike me dead, I believe." This I promised with joy, and instantly
turned back to take to my child the gift hidden in my pocket. And behold,
when I came to the road which leads to Loddin, I could scarce trust my
eyes (before I had overlooked it in my distress) when I saw my glebe,
which could produce seven bushels, ploughed, sown, and in stalk; the
blessed crop of rye had already shot lustily out of the earth a finger's
length in height. I could not choose but think that the Evil One had
deceived me with a false show, yet, however hard I rubbed my eyes, rye it
was and rye it remained. And seeing that old Paasch his piece of land
which joined mine was in like manner sown, and that the blades had shot up
to the same height, I soon guessed that the good fellow had done this
deed, seeing that all the other land lay waste. Wherefore, I readily
forgave him for not knowing the morning prayer; and thanking the Lord for
so much love from my flock, and earnestly beseeching him to grant me
strength and faith to bear with them steadfastly and patiently all the
troubles and adversities which it might please him henceforward to lay
upon us, according to his divine pleasure, I ran rather than walked back
into the village to old Paasch his farm, where I found him just about to
kill his cow, which he was slaughtering from grim hunger. "God bless
thee," said I, "worthy friend, for sowing my field; how shall I reward
thee?" But the old man answered, "Let that be, and do you pray for us";
and when I gladly promised this and asked him how he had kept his corn
safe from the savage enemy, he told me that he had hidden it secretly in
the caves of the Streckelberg, but that now all his store was used up.
Meanwhile he cut a fine large piece of meat from the top of the loin, and
said, "There is something for you, and when that is gone you can come
again for more." As I was then about to go with many thanks, his little
Mary, a child nearly seven years old, the same who had said the _Gratias_
on the Streckelberg, seized me by the hand and wanted to go to school to
my daughter; for since my _Custos_, as above mentioned, departed this life
in the plague, she had to teach the few little ones there were in the
village; this, however, had long been abandoned. I could not, therefore,
deny her, although I feared that my child would share her bread with her,
seeing that she dearly loved the little maid, who was her godchild; and so
indeed it happened; for when the child saw me take out the bread, she
shrieked for joy, and began to scramble up on the bench. Thus she also got
a piece of the slice, our maid got another, and my child put the third
piece into her own mouth, as I wished for none, but said that I felt no
signs of hunger and would wait until the meat was boiled, the which I now
threw upon the bench. It was a goodly sight to see the joy which my poor
child felt when I then also told her about the rye. She fell upon my neck,
wept, sobbed, then took the little one up in her arms, danced about the
room with her, and recited as she was wont, all manner of Latin _versus_,
which she knew by heart. Then she would prepare a right good supper for
us, as a little salt was still left in the bottom of a barrel of meat
which the Imperialists had broken up. I let her take her own way, and
having scraped some soot from the chimney and mixed it with water, I tore
a blank leaf out of _Virgilius_, and wrote to the _Pastor Liepensis_, his
reverence Abraham Tiburtius, praying that for God his sake he would take
our necessities to heart, and would exhort his parishioners to save us
from dying of grim hunger, and charitably to spare to us some meat and
drink, according as the all-merciful God had still left some to them,
seeing that a beggar had told me that they had long been in peace from
the terrible enemy. I knew not, however, wherewithal to seal the letter,
until I found in the church a little wax still sticking to a wooden
altar-candlestick, which the Imperialists had not thought it worth their
while to steal, for they had only taken the brass ones. I sent three
fellows in a boat with Hinrich Seden, the churchwarden, with this letter
to Liepe.

First, however, I asked my old Ilse, who was born in Liepe, whether she
would not rather return home, seeing how matters stood, and that I, for
the present at least, could not give her a stiver of her wages (mark that
she had already saved up a small sum, seeing that she had lived in my
service above twenty years, but the soldiers had taken it all). Howbeit, I
could nowise persuade her to this, but she wept bitterly, and besought me
only to let her stay with the good damsel whom she had rocked in her
cradle. She would cheerfully hunger with us if it needs must be, so that
she were not turned away. Whereupon I yielded to her, and the others went
alone.

Meanwhile the broth was ready, but scarce had we said the _Gratias_, and
were about to begin our meal, when all the children of the village, seven
in number, came to the door, and wanted bread, as they had heard we had
some from my daughter her little godchild. Her heart again melted, and
notwithstanding I besought her to harden herself against them, she
comforted me with the message to Liepe, and poured out for each child a
portion of broth on a wooden platter (for these also had been despised by
the enemy), and put into their little hands a bit of meat, so that all our
store was eaten up at once. We were, therefore, left fasting next morning,
till towards mid-day, when the whole village gathered together in a meadow
on the banks of the river to see the boat return. But, God be merciful to
us, we had cherished vain hopes! six loaves and a sheep, _item_, a quarter
of apples, was all they had brought. His reverence Abraham Tiburtius wrote
to me that after the cry of their wealth had spread throughout the island,
so many beggars had flocked thither that it was impossible to be just to
all, seeing that they themselves did not know how it might fare with them
in these heavy troublous times. Meanwhile he would see whether he could
raise any more. I therefore with many sighs had the small pittance carried
to the manse, and though two loaves were, as _Pastor Liepensis_ said in
his letter, for me alone, I gave them up to be shared among all alike,
whereat all were content save Seden his squint-eyed wife, who would have
had somewhat _extra_ on the score of her husband's journey, which,
however, as may be easily guessed, she did not get; wherefore she again
muttered certain words between her teeth as she went away, which, however,
no one understood. Truly she was an ill woman, and not to be moved by the
word of God.

Any one may judge for himself that such a store could not last long; and
as all my parishioners felt an ardent longing after spiritual food, and
as I and the churchwardens could only get together about sixteen
farthings in the whole parish, which was not enough to buy bread and
wine, the thought struck me once more to inform my lord the Sheriff of
our need. With how heavy a heart I did this may be easily guessed, but
necessity knows no law. I therefore tore the last blank leaf out of
_Virgilius_, and begged that, for the sake of the Holy Trinity, his
lordship would mercifully consider mine own distress and that of the
whole parish, and bestow a little money to enable me to administer the
holy sacrament for the comfort of afflicted souls; also, if possible,
to buy a cup, were it only of tin, since the enemy had plundered us of
ours, and I should otherwise be forced to consecrate the sacred elements
in an earthen vessel. _Item_, I besought him to have pity on our bodily
wants, and at last to send me the first-fruits which had stood over for
so many years. That I did not want it for myself alone, but would
willingly share it with my parishioners, until such time as God in his
mercy should give us more.

Here a huge blot fell upon my paper; for the windows being boarded up, the
room was dark, and but little light came through two small panes of glass
which I had broken out of the church, and stuck in between the boards;
this, perhaps, was the reason why I did not see better. However, as I
could not anywhere get another piece of paper, I let it pass, and ordered
the maid, whom I sent with the letter to Pudgla, to excuse the same to his
lordship the Sheriff, the which she promised to do, seeing that I could
not add a word more on the paper, as it was written all over. I then
sealed it as I had done before.

But the poor creature came back trembling for fear and bitterly weeping,
and said that his lordship had kicked her out of the castle-gate, and had
threatened to set her in the stocks if she ever came before him again.
"Did the parson think that he was as free with his money as I seemed to be
with my ink? I surely had water enough to celebrate the Lord's supper
wherewithal. For if the Son of God had once changed the water into wine,
he could surely do the like again. If I had no cup, I might water my flock
out of a bucket, as he did himself"; with many more blasphemies, such as
he afterwards wrote to me, and by which, as may easily be guessed, I was
filled with horror. Touching the first-fruits, as she told me he said
nothing at all. In such great spiritual and bodily need the blessed Sunday
came round, when nearly all the congregation would have come to the Lord's
table, but could not. I therefore spoke on the words of St. Augustine,
_crede et manducasti_, and represented that the blame was not mine, and
truly told what had happened to my poor maid at Pudgla, passing over much
in silence, and only praying God to awaken the hearts of magistrates for
our good. Peradventure I may have spoken more harshly than I meant. I know
not, only that I spoke that which was in my heart. At the end I made all
the congregation stay on their knees for nearly an hour, and call upon the
Lord for his holy sacrament; _item_, for the relief of their bodily wants,
as had been done every Sunday, and at all the daily prayers I had been
used to read ever since the heavy time of the plague. Last of all I led
the glorious hymn, "When in greatest need we be," which was no sooner
finished than my new churchwarden, Claus Bulk of Uekeritze, who had
formerly been a groom with his lordship, and whom he had now put into a
farm, ran off to Pudgla, and told him all that had taken place in the
church. Whereat his lordship was greatly angered, insomuch that he
summoned the whole parish, which still numbered about 150 souls, without
counting the children, and dictated _ad protocollum_ whatsoever they could
remember of the sermon, seeing that he meant to inform his princely grace
the Duke of Pomerania of the blasphemous lies which I had vomited against
him, and which must sorely offend every Christian heart. _Item_, what an
avaricious wretch I must be to be always wanting something of him, and to
be daily, so to say, pestering him in these hard times with my filthy
letters, when he had not enough to eat himself. This he said should break
the parson his neck, since his princely grace did all that he asked of
him, and that no one in the parish need give me anything more, but only
let me go my ways. He would soon take care that they should have quite a
different sort of parson from what I was.

(Now I would like to see the man who could make up his mind to come into
the midst of such wretchedness at all.)

This news was brought to me in the selfsame night, and gave me a great
fright, as I now saw that I should not have a gracious master in his
lordship, but should all the time of my miserable life, even if I could
anyhow support it, find in him an ungracious lord. But I soon felt some
comfort, when Chim Krueger from Uekeritze, who brought me the news, took a
little bit of his sucking-pig out of his pocket and gave it to me.
Meanwhile old Paasch came in and said the same, and likewise brought me a
piece of his old cow; _item_, my other warden, Hinrich Seden, with a slice
of bread, and a fish which he had taken in his net, all saying they wished
for no better priest than me, and that I was only to pray to the merciful
Lord to bestow more upon them, whereupon I should want for nothing.
Meanwhile I must be quiet and not betray them. All this I promised, and my
daughter Mary took the blessed gifts of God off the table and carried them
into the inner chamber. But, alas! next morning, when she would have put
the meat into the caldron, it was all gone. I know not who prepared this
new sorrow for me, but much believe it was Hinrich Seden his wicked wife,
seeing he can never hold his tongue, and most likely told her everything.
Moreover, Paasch his little daughter saw that she had meat in her pot next
day; _item_, that she had quarrelled with her husband, and had flung the
fish-board at him, whereon some fresh fish-scales were sticking: she had,
however, presently recollected herself when she saw the child. (Shame on
thee, thou old witch, it is true enough, I dare say!) Hereupon nought was
left us but to feed our poor souls with the word of God. But even our
souls were so cast down that they could receive nought, any more than our
bellies; my poor child, especially, from day to day grew paler, greyer,
and yellower, and always threw up all her food, seeing she ate it without
salt or bread. I had long wondered that the bread from Liepe was not yet
done, but that every day at dinner I still had a morsel. I had often
asked, "Whence comes all this blessed bread? I believe, after all, you
save the whole for me, and take none for yourself or the maid." But they
both then lifted to their mouths a piece of fir-tree bark, which they had
cut to look like bread, and laid by their plates; and as the room was
dark, I did not find out their deceit, but thought that they, too, were
eating bread. But at last the maid told me of it, so that I should allow
it no longer, as my daughter would not listen to her. It is not hard to
guess how my heart was wrung when I saw my poor child lying on her bed of
moss struggling with grim hunger. But things were to go yet harder with
me, for the Lord in his anger would break me in pieces like a potter's
vessel. For behold, on the evening of the same day, old Paasch came
running to me, complaining that all his and my corn in the field had been
pulled up and miserably destroyed, and that it must have been done by
Satan himself, as there was not a trace either of oxen or horses. At these
words my poor child screamed aloud and fainted. I would have run to help
her, but could not reach her bed, and fell on the ground myself for bitter
grief. The loud cries of the maid and old Paasch soon brought us both to
our senses. But I could not rise from the ground alone, for the Lord had
bruised all my bones. I besought them, therefore, when they would have
helped me, to leave me where I was; and when they would not, I cried out
that I must again fall on the ground to pray, and begged them all save my
daughter to depart out of the room. This they did, but the prayer would
not come. I fell into heavy doubting and despair, and murmured against the
Lord that he plagued me more sorely than Lazarus or Job. Wretch that I
was, I cried, "Thou didst leave to Lazarus at least the crumbs and the
pitiful dogs, but to me thou hast left nothing, and I myself am less in
thy sight even than a dog; and Job thou didst not afflict until thou hadst
mercifully taken away his children, but to me thou hast left my poor
little daughter, that her torments may increase mine own a thousandfold.
Behold, then, I can only pray that thou wilt take her from the earth, so
that my grey head may gladly follow her to the grave! Woe is me, ruthless
father, what have I done? I have eaten bread, and suffered my child to
hunger! Oh, Lord Jesu, who hast said, 'What man is there of you, whom if
his son ask bread will he give him a stone?' Behold I am that man!--behold
I am that ruthless father! I have eaten bread and have given wood to my
child! Punish me; I will bear it and lie still. Oh, righteous Jesu, I have
eaten bread, and have given wood to my child!" As I did not speak, but
rather shrieked these words, wringing my hands the while, my child fell
upon my neck, sobbing, and chid me for murmuring against the Lord, seeing
that even she, a weak and frail woman, had never doubted his mercy, so
that with shame and repentance I presently came to myself, and humbled
myself before the Lord for such heavy sin.

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