She fell asleep afterwards, but I did not do so very quickly, thinking what might follow such wild fits. Next day towards noon I told her what she was to say to Christian; she was to behave as if she were dissatisfied, and begin to upbraid him and to say, ‘The devil take you for all you have taught her! She has pulled off her slippers just as you do, and strikes me on the head with them. She is angry and no joke, and she took all the pretty stuff she had finished and threw it into the night-stool. “There,” said she, “no one shall have any advantage of that.”’ At this he laughed like a fool, for it pleased him. ‘Is she thoroughly angry?’ he asked. ‘Yes,’ she replied; ‘she is indeed.’ At this he laughed aloud on the stairs, so that I heard it. For a fortnight he behaved tolerably well, now and then demanding wine and food; and he came moreover to the door and related, among other things, how he had heard that the prince (now our king) was going to be married. I had also heard it, though I did not say so, for the prison governor had told me of it, and besides I received the papers without him. And as I asked him no questions, he went away immediately, saying afterwards to the woman, ‘She is angry and so am I. We will see who first will want the other.’ He threatened the woman very much. She wished that I would give him fair words. I told her that he was not of that character that one could get on with him by always showing the friendly side.[116] As he by degrees became more insolent than could be tolerated, I said one day to the prison governor that I was surprised that he could allow a prisoner to unlock and lock my doors, and to do that which was really the office of the tower-warder; and I asked him whether it did not occur to him that under such circumstances I might manage to get out, if I chose to do so without the King’s will? Christian was a prisoner, under sentence of death; he had already offered to get me out of the tower. The prison governor sat and stared like one who does not rightly understand, and he made no reply but ‘Yes, yes!’ but he acted in conformity with my warning, so that either he himself locked and unlocked, or Chresten did so. (I have seen Christian snatching the keys out of Chresten’s hand and locking my door, and this at the time when he began to make himself so angry.)
If Christian had not been furious before, he became so now, especially at the time that Chresten came in with the perfuming-pan when the woman was above. He would then stand straight before me in the anteroom, looking at me like a ghost and gnashing his teeth; and when he saw that I took the rest of the fumigating stuff from Chresten’s hand (which he had always himself given me in paper), he burst into a defiant laugh. When the doors were unlocked in the evening, and Christian began talking with the woman, he said: ‘Karen, tell her ladyship that I will make out a devilish story with you both. I have with my own eyes seen Chresten giving her a letter. Ay, that was why she did not let me go in with the perfuming-pan, because I would not undertake her message to Skaane. Ay, does she get the newspapers also from him? Yes, tell her, great as are the services I have rendered her, I will now prepare a great misfortune for her.’ God knows what a night I had! Not because I feared his threat, for I did not in the least regard his words; he himself would have suffered the most by far. But the woman was so sad that she did nothing but lament and moan, chiefly about her daughter, on account of the disgrace it would be to her if they put her mother into the Dark Church, nay even took her life. Then she remembered that her daughter had spoken with her on the stairs, and she cried out again: ‘Oh my daughter! my daughter! She will get into the house of correction!’ For some time I said nothing more than ‘Calm yourself; it will not be as bad as you think,’ as I perceived that she was not capable of listening to reason, for she at once exclaimed ‘Ach[!] ach!’ as often as I tried to speak, sitting up in bed and holding her head between her two hands and crying till she was almost deluged. I thought, ‘When there are no more tears to come, she will probably stop.’
I said at length, when she was a little appeased: ‘The misfortune with which the man threatens us cannot be averted by tears. Calm yourself and lie down to sleep. I will do the same, and I will pray God to impart to me His wise counsel for the morrow.’ This quieted her a little; but when I thought she was sleeping, she burst forth again with all the things that she feared; she had brought in to me slips of paper, knife and scissors, and other things furnished by him contrary to order. I answered only from time to time: ‘Go to sleep, go to sleep! I will talk with you to-morrow!’ It was of no avail. The clock struck two, when she was still wanting to talk, and saying, ‘It will go badly with the poor old man down below!’[117] I made as if I were asleep, but the whole night, till five o’clock and longer, no sleep came to my eyes.
When the door was unlocked at noon, I had already intimated to her what she was to say to Christian, and had given her to understand that he thought to receive money from her and candles from me by his threats, and that he wanted to force us to obey his pleasure; but that he had others to deal with than he imagined. She was only to behave as if she did not care for his talk, and was to say nothing but ‘Good day,’ unless he spoke to her; and if he enquired what I had said, she was to act as if she did not remember that she was to tell me anything. If he repeated his message, she was to say: ‘I am not going to say anything to her about that. Are you still as foolish as you were last night? Do what you choose!’ and then go away. This conversation took place, and he threatened her worse than before. The woman remained steadfast, but she was thoroughly cast down when our doors were locked; still, as she has a light heart, she often laughed with the tears in her eyes. I knew well that Christian would try to recover favour again by communicating me all kind of news in writing, but I had forbidden the woman to take his slips of paper, so that he got very angry. I begged her to tell him that he had better restrain himself if he could; that if he indulged his anger, it would be worse for him. At this he laughed ironically, and said, ‘Tell her, it will be worse for her. Whatever I have done for her, she has enticed me to by giving me wine: tell her so. I will myself confess everything; and if I come to the rack and wheel, Chresten shall get into trouble. He brought her letters from her children.’ (The rogue well knew that I had not allowed the woman to be cognisant neither of the fact that he had conveyed for me a message to Skaane to my children, nor of the wax in which the tower keys were impressed; this was why he spoke so freely to her.) When our doors were locked, this formed the subject of our conversation. I laughed at it, and asked the woman what disgrace could be so great as to be put on the wheel; I regarded it as thoughtless talk, for such it was, and I begged her to tell him that he need not trouble himself to give himself up, as I would relieve him of the trouble, and (if he chose) tell the prison governor everything on the following day that he had done for me; he had perhaps forgotten something, but that I could well remember it all.
When the woman told him this, he made no answer, but ran down, kept quiet for some days, and scarcely spoke to the woman. One Saturday, when the woman had gone upstairs with the night-stool, he went up to her and tried to persuade her to accept a slip of paper for me, but she protested that she dare not. ‘Then tell her,’ he said, ‘that she is to give me back the scissors and the knife which I have given her. I will have them, and she shall see what I can do. You shall both together get into trouble!’ She came down as white as a corpse, so that I thought she had strained herself. She related the conversation and his request, and begged me much to give him back the things, and that then he would be quiet. I said: ‘What is the matter with you? are you in your senses? Does he not say that we shall get into trouble if he gets the scissors and knife back again? Now is not the time to give them to him. Do you not understand that he is afraid I shall let the things be seen? My work, he thinks, is gone, and the papers are no longer here, so that there is nothing with which he can be threatened except these things. You must not speak with him this evening. If he says anything, do not answer him.’ In the evening he crept in, and said in the anteroom to her, ‘Bring me the scissors and the knife!’ She made no answer. On the following morning, towards noon, I begged her to tell him that I had nothing of his; that I had paid for both the scissors and knife, and that more than double their value. He was angry at the message, and gnashed with his teeth. She went away from him, and avoided as much as possible speaking with him alone. When he saw that the woman would not take a slip of paper from him, he availed himself of a moment when the prison governor was not there, and threw in a slip of paper to me on the floor. A strange circumstance was near occurring this time: for just as he was throwing in the paper, the prison governor’s large shaggy dog passed in, and the paper fell on the dog’s back, but it fell off again in the corner, where the dog was snuffling.
Upon the paper stood the words: ‘Give me the knife and scissors back, or I will bring upon you as much misfortune as I have before rendered you good service, and I will pay for the knife and scissors if I have to sell my trousers for it. Give them to me at once!’ For some days he went about like a lunatic, since I did not answer him, nor did I send him a message through the woman; so that Chresten asked the woman what she had done to Christian, as he went about below gnashing his teeth and howling like a madman. She replied that those below must best know what was the matter with him; that he must see he was spoken with in a very friendly manner here. At noon on Good Friday, 1667,[118] he was very angry, swore and cursed himself if he did not give himself up, repeating all that he had said before, and adding that I had enticed him with wine and meat, and had deceived him with candles and good words. That he cared but little what happened to him; he would gladly die by the hand of the executioner; but that I, and she, and Chresten, should not escape without hurt.
The afternoon was not very cheerful to us. The woman was depressed. I begged her to be calm, told her there was no danger in such madness, though it was very annoying, and harder to bear than my captivity; but that still I would be a match for the rogue. She took her book and read, and I sat down and wrote a hymn upon Christ’s sufferings, to the tune ‘As the hart panteth after the water-springs.’[119]
Christian had before been in the habit of bringing me coloured eggs on Easter-Eve; at this time he was not so disposed. When the door was locked, I said to Chresten, ‘Do not forget the soft-boiled eggs to-morrow.’ When the dinner was brought up on Easter-Day, and the eggs did not come at once (they were a side dish), Christian looked at me, and made a long nose at me three or four times. (I was accustomed to go up and down in front of the door of my room when it was unlocked.) I remained standing, and looked at him, and shrugged my shoulders a little. Soon after these grimaces, Chresten came with a dish full of soft-boiled eggs. Christian cast down his eyes at first, then he raised them to me, expecting, perhaps, that I should make a long nose at him in return; but I intended nothing less. When the woman went to the stairs, he said, ‘There were no coloured eggs there.’ She repeated this to me at once, so that I begged her to say that I ate the soft-boiled eggs and kept the coloured ones, as he might see (and I sent him one of the last year’s, on which I had drawn some flowers; he had given it to me himself for some candles). He accepted it, but wrote me a note in return, which was very extraordinary. It was intended to be a highflown composition about the egg and the hen. He tried to be witty, but it had no point. I cannot now quite remember it, except that he wrote that I had sent him a rotten egg; that his egg would be fresh, while mine would be rotten.[120] He threw the slip of paper into my room. I made no answer to it. Some days passed again, and he said nothing angry; then he recommenced. I think he was vexed to see Chresten often receive my wine back again in the cup. At times I presented it to the prison governor. Moreover, he received no food, either for himself or his boy. One day he said to the woman, ‘What do you think the prison governor would say if he knew that you give the prisoners some of his food to eat?’ (The food which came from my table was taken down to the prison governor.) ‘Tell her that!’ The woman asked whether she was to say so to me, as a message from him. ‘As whose message otherwise?’ he answered. I sent him word that I could take as much as I pleased of the food brought me: that it was not measured out and weighed for me, and that those who had a right to it could do what they liked with what I did not require, as it belonged to no one. On this point he could not excite our fear. Then he came back again one day to the old subject, that he would have the scissors and the knife, and threatening to give himself up; and as it was almost approaching the time when I received the Lord’s Supper, I said to the woman: ‘Tell him once for all, if he cannot restrain himself I will inform against him as soon as the priest comes, and the first Karen shall be made to give evidence; she shall, indeed, be brought forward, for she had no rest on his account until I entered into his proposals. Whether voluntarily or under compulsion, she shall say the truth, and then we shall see who gets into trouble.’ He might do, I sent word, whatever he liked, but I would be let alone; he might spare me his notes, or I would produce them. When the woman told him this, he thought a little, and then asked, ‘Does she say so?’ ‘Yes,’ said the woman, ‘she did. She said still further: “What does he imagine? Does he think that I, as a prisoner who can go nowhere, will suffer for having accepted the services of a prisoner who enjoys a liberty which does not belong to him?”’ He stood and let his head hang down, and made no answer at all. This settled the fellow, and from that time I have not heard one unsuitable word from him. He spoke kindly and pleasantly with the woman on the stairs, related what news he had heard, and was very officious; and when she once asked him for his cup to give him some wine, he said sadly, ‘I have not deserved any wine.’ The woman said he could nevertheless have some wine, and that I desired no more service from him. So he received wine from time to time, but nothing to eat.[121] On the day that I received the Lord’s Supper, he came to the door and knocked softly. I went to the door. He saluted me and wished me joy in a very nice manner, and said that he knew I had forgiven those who had done aught against me. I answered in the affirmative, and gave no further matter for questions; nor did he, but spoke of other trivialities, and then went away. Afterwards he came daily to the door, and told me what news he had heard; he also received wine and meat again. He told me, among other things, that many were of opinion that all the prisoners would be set at liberty at the wedding of the prince (our present king) which was then talked of; that the bride was to arrive within a month (it was the end of April when this conversation took place), and that the wedding was to be at the palace.
The arrival of the bride was delayed till the beginning of June, and then the wedding was celebrated in the palace at Nykjöbing in Falster. Many were of opinion that it took place there in order that the bride might not intercede for me and the doctor.[122] When the bride was to be brought to Copenhagen, I said to Christian: ‘Now is the time for you to gain your liberty. Let your girl wait and fall on one knee before the carriage of the bride and hold out a supplication, and then I am sure you will gain your liberty.’ He asked how the girl should come to be supplicating for him. I said, ‘As your bride—’ ‘No (and he swore with a terrible oath), she is not that! She imagines it, perhaps, but (he swore again) I will not have her.’ ‘Then leave her in the idea,’ I said, ‘and let her make her supplication as for her bridegroom.’ ‘Yes,’ he said, in a crestfallen tone, ‘she may do that.’ It was done, as I had advised, and Christian was set at liberty on June 11, 1667. He did not bid me good-bye, and did not even send me a message through the tower-warder or the boy. His gratitude to the girl was that he smashed her window that very evening, and made such a drunken noise in the street, that he was locked up in the Town-hall cellar.[123] He came out, however, on the following day. His lad Paaske took leave of his master. When he asked him whether he should say anything from him to us, he answered, ‘Tell them that I send them to the devil.’ Paaske, who brought this message, said he had answered Christian, ‘Half of that is intended for me’ (for Christian had already suspected that Paaske had rendered services to the woman). We had a hearty laugh over this message; for I said that if Paaske was to have half of it, I should get nothing. We were not a little glad that we were quit of this godless man.
We lived on in repose throughout the year 1668. I wrote and was furnished with various handiwork, so that Chresten bought nothing for me but a couple of books, and these I paid doubly and more than doubly with candles. Karen remained with me the first time more than three years; and as her daughter was then going to be married, and she wished to be at the wedding, she spoke to me as to how it could be arranged, for she would gladly have a promise of returning to me when the woman whom I was to have in her stead went away. I did not know whether this could be arranged; but I felt confident that I could effect her exit without her feigning herself ill. The prison governor had already then as clerk Peder Jensen Tötzlöff,[E44] who now and then performed his duties. To this man I made the proposal, mentioning at the same time with compassion the ill health of the woman. I talked afterwards with the prison governor himself about it, and he was quite satisfied; for he not only liked this Karen very much, but he had moreover a woman in the house whom he wished to place with me instead.