How a strange woman (who must assuredly have been Sidonia) incites the lieges of his Grace to great uproar and tumult in Stettin, by reason of the new tax upon beer.
My gracious Prince will perhaps say, "But, Theodore, how comes it that this hag, who in her youth could not be brought to learn the catechism, quoted Scripture in her old days like a priest?"
I answer—Serene Prince and Lord, that seems in my opinion because the evil witch found that Scripture, when not taught of God, can be made to serve the devil's purposes. For this reason she studied therein; not to make honey, but to extract poison, as your Grace may have perceived in her strifes with individuals, and even with the constituted authorities. Further, methinks, she must also have studied in history books, for how else could she have discoursed upon political matters so as to raise the whole population of Stettin into open revolt, as we shall soon see. However, I leave these questions undecided, and shall only state facts, leaving the rest for your Highness's judgment.
The day following that on which Sidonia had been tried before the noble convocation (and she must have still been in the town, I think, for it was late in the previous evening when she bewitched Joachim Wedel), the priest of St. Nicholas read out after the sermon, before the whole congregation, the ducal order declaring that, from that date forward, the quart of beer, hitherto sold for a Stralsund shilling, should not be sold under sixteen Pomeranian pence. This caused great murmurs and discontent among the people; and when they came out of church they rushed to the inn, where Sidonia had been staying, to discuss the matter freely, and screamed and roared, and gesticulated amongst themselves, saying, "The council had no right to raise the price of beer; they were a set of rogues that ought to be hung," &c., and they struck fiercely on the table, so that the glasses rang. Just then an old hag came to the door, but not in a cloister habit. She had a black plaster upon her nose, and complained how she had hurt herself by falling on the sharp stones, which had put her nose out of joint.
"People talked of this new decree—was it true that the poor folk were to pay sixteen Pomeranian pence for a quart of beer?—O God! what the cruelty and avarice of princes could do. But she scarcely believed the report, for she brewed beer herself better than any brewer in the land, and yet could sell the quart for eightpence, and have profit besides. Oh, that princes and ministers could rob the poor man so! ay, they would take the very shirt off his back to glut their own greed and covetousness. And what did they give their hard-earned gold for? To build fine houses for the Prince, forsooth, and fill them with fine pictures from Italy, and statues, as if he were a brat of a school-girl, and must have his dolls to play with."
"What sort is your beer, old dame?" asked a fellow. "Marry, it must be strange trash, I warrant."
Illa.—"No, no; if they would not believe her word, let them taste the beer. She wanted nothing further but to prove how the wicked government oppressed the poor folk; for she was a God-fearing woman, and her heart was filled with grief to see how the princes lately, in this poor Pomerania, squeezed the very life-blood out of the people," &c. Then she lifted up a barrel of beer upon the table (I have already said that Sidonia had brought some with her to sell), and invited the discontented people to taste it, which they were nothing loth to do, and soon broached the said barrel. Then, having tasted, they extolled her beer to the skies—"No better had ever been brewed." Now other troops of the discontented came pouring in from Lastadie, Wiek, &c., cursing, and swearing, and shouting—"The beer must not be raised; they would force the government to take off the tax. Would not their comrades join?"
This was fine fun to the old hag, and she produced another barrel of beer, which the mob emptied speedily, and then began talking, shouting, screaming, roaring like flocks of wild geese; and when the old hag saw that they had got enough under their caps to make them quite desperate, she began—
"Was not her beer as good as any beer in the duchy?"
"Ay, ay—better!" shouted the mob, "Where dost thou live, mother?"