One day, when the woman had come down from above, where she had been emptying the utensils in my room, and the doors were locked, she said to me: ‘This Christian who is here has been just speaking with me upstairs. He says he cannot describe the Doctor’s miserable condition, how severe is his imprisonment, and what bad food he gets, since Balcke left. He has no longer any candle except during meal-time, and no light reaches him but through the hole in his door leading into the outer room. He begged me to tell you of it; his eyes were full of tears, such great pity had he for him.’ I said: ‘That is all that one can do, and it is the duty of a Christian to sympathise with the misfortune of one’s neighbour. The poor man must have patience as well as I, and we must console ourselves with a good conscience. The harder he suffers the sooner comes the end; he is an old man.’
Two days afterwards she came again with some talk from Christian. The Doctor sent me his compliments, and he asked constantly if I was well; she said also, that Christian would give him anything I liked to send him. I regarded this as a snare, but I said that Christian could take a piece of roast meat when the prison governor was with me, and that he should look about for something into which wine could be poured, and then she could secretly give some from my glass, and beg Christian to give my compliments to the Doctor. This was accepted, and I had rest for a few days. Christian conformed entirely to the woman, caused a dispute between her and the tower-warder, and made it immediately right again; so that there was no lack of chatter. At last she said one day: ‘That is an honest fellow, this Christian! He has told me how innocently he got into prison and was sentenced. He is afraid that you may think he eats and drinks all that you send to the Doctor. He swore with a solemn oath that he would be true to you, if you would write a word to the Doctor.[96] I hope you do not doubt my fidelity!’ and she began to swear and to curse herself if she would deceive me. She said, he had taken a no less solemn oath, before she believed him. I said: ‘I have nothing to write to him. I do not know what I have to write.’ ‘Oh!’ said she, ‘write only two words, so that the old man may see that he can trust him! If you wish for ink, Christian can give you some.’ I replied: ‘I have something to write with, if I choose to do so, and I can write without ink and paper.’
This she could not understand; so I took some pieces of sugared almonds, and made some letters on them with the large pin, placing on four almonds the words: non ti fidar! I divided the word fidar, and placed half on each almond. I had in this way rest for a day, and somewhat to beguile the time. Whether the Doctor could not see what was written on the almonds, or whether he wished to test Christian’s fidelity, I know not, but Christian brought the woman a slip of paper from the Doctor to me, full of lamentations at our condition, and stating that my daughter Anna Cathrina, or else Cassetta, were the cause of his misfortune.
I wished to know more of this, so I wrote to him desiring information (we wrote to each other in Italian). He replied that one or the other had left his letter lying somewhere on the table, where it was found and despatched; for that a letter of his was the cause of his misfortune. I wrote back to him that it was not credible, but that he was suspected of having corresponded with my lord, and hence his letters had been seized. The more I tried to impress this upon him the more opinionated he became,[97] and he wrote afterwards saying that it was a scheme of Cassetta’s to get him into the net, in order to bring me out of it. When he began to write in this way, I acquired a strange opinion of him, and fancied he was trying to draw something out of me which he could bring forward; and I reflected for some days whether I should answer. At last I answered him in this strain, that no one knew better than he that I was not aware of any treason; that the knowledge as to how his correspondence with my lord had become known was of no use to him; that I had no idea why he was sentenced, and that no sentence had been passed on me. Some weeks elapsed before the Doctor wrote. At last he communicated to me in a few words the sentence passed upon him, and we corresponded from time to time with each other.
The prison governor became gradually more accessible, came in at every meal-time, and related all sorts of jokes and buffooneries, which he had carried on in his youth: how he had been a drummer, and had made a Merry Andrew of himself for my brother-in-law Count Pentz, and how he had enacted a dog for the sake of favour and money, and had crawled under the table, frightening the guests and biting a dog for a ducat’s reward. When he had been drinking (which was often the case) he juggled and played Punch, sometimes a fortune-teller, and the like.
When Chresten the tower-warder, and Christian the prisoner, heard the prison governor carrying on his jokes, they did the same, and made such a noise with the woman in the antechamber that we could not hear ourselves speak. She sat on Christian’s lap, and behaved herself in a wanton manner. One day she was not very well, and made herself some warm beer and bread, placing it outside on the stove. The prison governor was sitting with me and talking, Chresten and Christian were joking with her outside, and Christian was to stir the warm beer and bread, and taste if it was hot enough. Chresten said to Christian, ‘Drink it up if you are thirsty.’ The words were no sooner said than the deed was done, and almost at the same moment the prison governor got up and went away. When the door was locked, the woman seemed to be almost fainting. I thought she was ill, and I was fearful that she might die suddenly, and that the guilt of her death might be laid on me, and I asked quickly, ‘Are you ill?’ She answered, ‘I am bad enough,’ confirming it with a terrible oath and beginning to unbutton her jacket. Then I saw that she was angry, and I knew well that she would give vent to a burst of execrations, which was the case.
She cursed and scolded those who had so treated her; a poor sick thing as she was, and she had not had anything to eat or drink all day. I said, ‘Be quiet, and you shall have some warm beer.’ She swore with a solemn oath, asking how it was to be got here? it was summer and there was no fire in the stove, and it was no use calling, as no one could hear. I said, ‘If you will be silent, I will cause the pot to boil.’ ‘Yes,’ and she swore with another fearful oath, ‘I can indeed be silent, and will never speak of it.’ So I made her take three pieces of brick, which were lying behind the night-stool, and place on these her pot of beer and bread (everything that she was to do was to be done in silence; she might not answer me with words but only with signs, when I asked her anything). She sat down besides the pot, stirring it with a spoon. I sat always on my bed during the day, and then the table was placed before me. I had a piece of chalk, and I wrote various things on the table, asking from time to time whether the pot boiled. She kept peeping in and shaking her head. When I had asked three times and she turned to me and saw that I was laughing, she behaved herself like a mad woman, throwing the spoon from her hand, turning over the stool, tearing open her jacket, and exclaiming, ‘The devil may be jeered at like this!’ I said, ‘You are not worthy of anything better, as you believe that I can practise magic.’ ‘Oh (and she repeated a solemn oath) had I not believed that you could practise magic, I should never have consented to be locked up with you; do you know that?’ I reflected for a moment what answer to give, but I said nothing, smiled, and let her rave on.
Afterwards she wept and bemoaned her condition. ‘Now, now,’ I said, ‘be quiet! I will make the pot boil without witchcraft.’ And as we had a tinder-box, I ordered her to strike a light, and to kindle three ends of candles, which she was to place under the pot. This made the pot boil, and she kissed her hand to me and was very merry. Once or twice afterwards I gave her leave to warm beer in this way: it could not always be done, for if the wind blew against the window (which was opened with a long pike) the smoke could not pass away. I said, ‘Remember your oath and do not talk of what takes place here, or the lights will be taken from us; at any rate we shall lose some of them.’ She asserted that she would not. I heard nothing of it at the time, but some years afterwards I found that she had said that I had taken up two half-loose stones from the floor (this was afterwards related in another manner by a clergyman, as will be mentioned afterwards). She had also said that I had climbed up and looked at the rope-dancers in the castle square, which was true. For as Chresten one day told the woman that rope-dancers would be exhibiting in the inner castle yard, and she informed me of it and enquired what they were, and I explained to her, she lamented that she could not get a sight of them. I said it could easily be done, if she would not talk about it afterwards. She swore, as usual, with an oath that she would not. So I took the bedclothes from the bed and placed the boards on the floor and set the bed upright in front of the window, and the night-stool on the top of it. In order to get upon the bedstead, the table was placed at the side, and a stool by the table in order to get upon the table, and a stool upon the table, in order to get upon the night-stool, and a stool on the night-stool, so that we could stand and look comfortably, though not both at once. I let her climb up first, and I stood and took care that the bed did not begin to give way; she was to keep watch when I was on the top. I knew, moreover, well that the dancers did not put forth their utmost skill at first.[98]
I could see the faces of the King and Queen: they were standing in the long hall, and I wondered afterwards that they never turned their eyes to the place where I stood. I did not let the woman perceive that I saw them. During this woman’s time I once had a desire to see the people go to the castle-church and return from it. The bed was again placed upright, and I sat for a long time on the top, until everyone had come out of church. The woman did not venture to climb up; she said that she had been afraid enough the last time, and was glad when she had come down.
The first time I received the holy communion during this prison governor’s time, two brass candlesticks which did not match were brought in, with tallow candles. This displeased the woman, though she said nothing to me. But when at length she was compelled to take the sacrament, after more than three years had elapsed since she had been at the Lord’s table, she begged Chresten, the tower-warder, to go to her daughter (who was in the service of a carpenter in the town), and to get the loan of a pair of beautiful brass candlesticks and a couple of wax candles. If she could also procure for her a fine linen cloth, she was to do her best; she would pay for it.